


have yourself a merry little dark solstice now.

by LLReid



Category: Bloodbound (Visual Novels)
Genre: Canon LGBTQ Character, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Christmas Shopping, Christmas Smut, Dark Solstice, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Female Friendship, Fireworks, Fluff and Smut, Game Night, Gift Exchange, Gift Giving, Holiday Traditions, Holidays, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Male-Female Friendship, Monopoly (Board Game), Oral Sex, Pillow Fights, Platonic Soulmates, Psychic Abilities, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Same-Sex Marriage, Sex Toys, Sledding, Smut, Snow, Snowball Fight, Strap-Ons, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLReid/pseuds/LLReid
Summary: Each chapter is inspired by a different Christmas song.~~~~The city was crawling with mortal holiday shoppers looking to add to their already burgeoning piles of gifts. To Kamilah they were like ants at a picnic, teeming from store to store, trailing oversized carrier bags and screaming infants and bored husbands behind them as they went. She felt alien in this environment; pulling up her hood to protect her hair from the snow as they strolled hand in hand through the jittering crowds on Fifth Avenue, dodging pushchairs, lit cigarettes, and charity collection tins offered by drunken mortals dressed like Santa on every street corner. The approaching holidays seemed to wave a magic wand over the world, everything was softer and more beautiful... and less irritating than it otherwise would be. Later in the winter she’d tire of the snow, but Dark Solstice snow was different — the Dark Solstice was a state of mind, after all.
Relationships: Kamilah Sayeed/Anastasia Sayeed, Kamilah Sayeed/Main Character (Bloodbound)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 87





	1. all the lights are shining so brightly everywhere.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by; All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey.

Despite it being a bitterly cold day in December, Kamilah was feeling especially warm in her heart for no other reason than it was the holiday season. It was her favourite time of year. She was so happy she seemed to disregard her hatred for shopping and walked through the busy stores she and her wife needed to visit sporting a big grin on her face. Despite them both being very recognisable public figures, most people were far too busy going about their business to notice them at all — and that alone was absolutely glorious.

The city was crawling with mortal holiday shoppers looking to add to their already burgeoning piles of gifts. To Kamilah they were like ants at a picnic, teeming from store to store, trailing oversized carrier bags and screaming infants and bored husbands behind them as they went. She felt alien in this environment; pulling up her hood to protect her hair from the snow as they strolled hand in hand through the jittering crowds on Fifth Avenue, dodging pushchairs, lit cigarettes, and charity collection tins offered by drunken mortals dressed like Santa on every street corner. The approaching holidays seemed to wave a magic wand over the world, everything was softer and more beautiful... and less irritating than it otherwise would be. Later in the winter she’d tire of the snow, but Dark Solstice snow was different — the Dark Solstice was a state of mind, after all.

She was in such a good mood that she wasn’t even bothered by how clueless these mortals were about their own holiday. How they didn’t realise that their own Christmas was just as mysterious to them as they frequently bemoaned the vampire’s sacred Dark Solstice was. The truth was that their Christmas had evolved from the Roman holiday Saturnalia, but next to none of them knew that. Little did they know that their precious holiday had originally been a horrifyingly misogynistic winter festival that was celebrated between the 17th and 23rd of December where then men gave gifts to each other. They also would get drunk, have sex with each other and then frequently beat their wives. But she supposed the tale they told themselves was better than the truth, as the Romans were even bigger imbeciles than these modern day mortals... and it made her oddly happy to know their Saturnalia had been all but forgotten.

It was only when Anastasia visibly shivered that Kamilah actually noticed how cold it had gotten. Granted, Anastasia’s core body temperature was so low that she could wear knitted sweaters in the height of summer without suffering at all and frequently still complained of being freezing, but it was a particularly cold evening now that the sun had somehow finished setting without her actually registering it. Unless you were high up in a building or happened to glimpse it at the end of one of the wide avenues going east-west, all you knew of the sunset in Manhattan was a darkening in the air. It was no wonder mortals who lived in New York were so unbalanced. They were totally untouched by the rhythms of nature. Even vampires found they were only aware of nature when something extreme happened, like a snowstorm or heatwave.

“So far we’ve bought Lily an Alienware gaming PC and Comic Con tickets, Adrian a new iPad with airpods and a protective case that holds the pen that goes with it, Serafine four vintage Gianni Versace couture dresses, Lula two American Girl Dolls and clothes for them to wear and some furniture for her dolls house, Kano a Pac Man arcade machine, Akeyo boxing gloves worn and signed by Mike Tyson, and we’re paying for Mathew and Tyler to take a trip to Paris over New Years,” Anastasia said as they walked hand in hand down Fifth Avenue. “And we’ve already got lights, candles, and other festive decorations arranged for The Dark Solstice celebrations. Is there anything we’ve forgotten?”

She hummed softly as she ran over the mental checklist that had existed in the back of her mind for more than two thousand years. Decorations. Fireworks. Catering. Blood. Transportation out of the city. The Obelisk being shipped from the Raines Corp basement to Ebeneezer’s castle. Organising the clans. Gifts. A fabulous new outfit to wear to the grand balls, carnivals, and every elaborate banquet held between the 24th of December and January 1st.

Whilst so much of life had changed, the traditional Dark Solstice celebrations were something that had remained the same — and had somehow only gotten better since Anastasia had come into her life. To show her wife how much she appreciated her this holiday season she had bought three necklaces and two tiaras that had once been owned by her ancestors the Yusupov’s in Imperial Russia that had been locked up in Cartier’s vaults in St. Petersburg and Paris for close to a century, ordered a dozen large black suede boxes of red infinity roses from Amaranté London, a first edition copy of her favourite childhood book ‘Alice In Wonderland’ that had been printed in 1866, and she had commissioned four different couture dresses from Christian Dior — two evening dresses with long opera gloves and two she could wear during the daytime. Whilst material goods meant little to Anastasia, Kamilah never missed an opportunity to spoil her.

“I think we’ve organised everything,” she nodded. “My gifts to you were delivered to my office yesterday.”

Her ancient eyes skimmed over the woman at her side and the softest smile settled on her face. She hated shopping but thinking of it as a date with her wife actually made it fun. And the way Anastasia’s gaze drank her in as they ran these errands was so different to how Gaius’ had bore into her as they’d went about simply taking things that they required and beheading anyone who had tried to stop them every December. He had looked at her beneath the warm glow of the holiday decorations with lust or speculation or crass curiosity, but he hadn’t been looking at her really. He’d been looking at what she represented to him: physical love or a valuable prize or an object to be gawked at. When Anastasia stared at her, well, she wasn’t looking for flaws or trying to intimidate her, she was looking at her.

“The last and most important of my gifts for you arrived at my office today,” Anastasia beamed.

“Do I even wish to know how many minds you had to invade to get it?,” she chuckled. 

Anastasia hummed and batted her eyes, feigning a look of innocence. “Less than I thought I would have to, actually. It took a lot of psychic gymnastics and like thirty sensory overloads that led to me almost passing out, though. Poor Tyler was horrified by how sick I made myself.”

“So that’s why you’ve suffered so many episodes lately,” she breathed. “What the hell kind of limits did you push yourself to?”

“I had to look back at memories of vampires who were alive and in the vicinity of the original owner at the time they had the item, and then I had to figure out a roundabout way to access the memories of long dead mortals... and I figured out that I can do that through the memories of psychic vampires who had peered into their minds at one point. Then I had to focus all my energy on tracking the object from the moment it last appeared in somebody’s memories right up to the present day, which wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do because I’d never tracked an inanimate object the way I usually do people.” She took a deep breath. “But this gift is really, really special and it should belong to you so I don’t even feel bad about having to psychically manipulate people or exhaust myself to get it. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Even more special than the time you returned my father’s favourite sword — that I hadn’t seen since I was six years old — to me?”

Anastasia nodded. “Even more special than that, I think.”

She gave her hand a tight squeeze as a pang of excitement shot through her heart. Anastasia was, perhaps, the only person besides Lysimachus who knew her so well that her gifts always hit the right mark. Every time a gift giving occasion rolled around she somehow managed to slip into the minds of museum curators and private ‘collectors’ all over the world who were gatekeeping priceless Egyptian artefacts that had been robbed from her ancestors tombs by the professional grave robbers who liked to call themselves ‘archaeologists’ to feel better about what they were doing. It might not have been the most moral thing, but neither was robbing the resting places of the dead... and there were so many things that mortals simply didn’t understand and Kamilah had no desire to explain to them that she had yearned to own for years... so many things that reminded her of her home. Tutankhamun’s meteorite dagger. A golden Ankh amulet that had been owned by Nefertiti. A sword that had once belonged to her father that had been found at the bottom of The Nile. A spear the guards at Antirhodos had held at the door of her cousin’s throne room. Many jewelled scarab accessories. Decorative vases and statues found at the ruins of Antirhodos. Even complete Mehen and Senet sets, which she had taught Anastasia to play so well she beat her almost every time they played together and reminded her of her childhood.

It’d been a long time since she’d been close to her roots or her family, but as far in distance and time as she was physically from them, she’d never been so close in every other way than she was after Anastasia presented her with artefact after artefact. Her wife had made it her mission to locate everything and anything that might hold sentimental value to her, and expected absolutely nothing in return.

“More precious than that blade that defended my father in war with the names of my mother, myself, and Lysimachus carved into it in his own hand?,” she murmured, her brow furrowing as she searched Anastasia’s face for any indication of what this mysterious item was. She was like an excited child because she knew there was likely a thousand more things only her wife could locate that would indeed be more special than that. 

“I think so.”

She let out a low laugh as they walked past a man selling freshly cut Christmas trees that seemed to be smelling of stars and snow and pine resin. She inhaled deeply and filled her soul with the wintry night. It was such a healing time, her heart was shining, her soul was sparkling. What a freeing time it was. The approaching Dark Solstice was like the blood infused hard candies a vampire of Clan Matsuo had concocted and handed out by the bagful every time anyone visited The Shadow Den; it slowly melted in your mouth sweetening every taste bud, making you wish it could last forever.

Despite her age and general disposition, the Dark Solstice made her schmaltzy. She was extremely proud to be level-headed, and even tough most of the time. But once a year she liked to believe that a sustainable peace on earth might be possible and calories didn’t count. And she thought it a wonderful thing that nobody said a damn word between the 24th of December and the 1st of January if you drank wine with breakfast or ate donuts for dinner. It was exactly how the world ought to be all of the time.

“Okay, just tell me who it belonged to,” she chuckled.

“There it is,” smirked Anastasia. “You lasted a whole twenty seconds. Congratulations.”

“There what is?”

“You do this every year, babe,” Anastasia teased. “You’re worse than Lula when it comes to gifts. You can’t help but ask a thousand questions.”

“You’re selling the lengths I will go to for answers far too short. I indeed ask many questions, but I also bribe ‘Santa’ with sexual favours and attempt to ask her things whilst she’s in her sub space,” she smirked, playfully bumping her hip against hers as the walked. 

Anastasia giggled and peered up at her through her set of mesmerising sapphire eyes that seemed to be glistening in the glow of the holiday decorations lining store windows. It wasn’t only the eyes that had her sex-drive squealing into overdrive; it was that hair. She couldn’t believe that she had never really been into redheads before meeting her, because damn, she sure as hell spent far too much time utterly transfixed by the way her hair seemed to glow like burning embers no matter what light she was cast in. When she spoke, her voice was almost musical, “And how has that worked out for you so far?”

“Pitifully.” She heaved a sigh and ran her thumb down the length of her’s, her cheeks stiffening as she held back a smile. “I don’t know how you do it. You can be so deep in your sub space you will willingly do anything I ask of you and can hardly think for yourself anymore, yet you will never spoil the surprise.”

“I’m a woman of many talents,” shrugged Anastasia.

“You could just tell me and then make me forget it,” she suggested, smirking at her. “Then come the Dark Solstice, I will still be surprised!”

“Then what would be the point in telling you?”

“I— You— Shut up.” She pouted. “I evidently did not think that through as well as I’d hoped.”

Anastasia laughed lightly and playfully swatted her with the bags of doll clothes she was carrying. “You think?”

She sighed, her dark eyes lighting up with mirth. “I could get on my knees and pleasure you until I get lockjaw for answers.”

“You do that anyway, babe,” Anastasia smirked, “and I don’t have to spoil your Dark Solstice for it.”

“Indeed... evidently I did not think that proposition through either.” She hummed. “Perhaps you can figure out how to psychically remedy the condition so I can have my fill... which means I wish to never stop, if couldn’t tell.”

Anastasia threw her head back and laughed as they wandered back into the Ahmanet skyscraper and made their way across the lobby to the private elevator that led to their home. “You just made yourself wet thinking about it, didn’t you?”

“I’m always wet,” she said, dreamily. “It’s all your doing.”

“Well if you can keep it in your pants until these presents are wrapped and we’ve indulged in a hot drink you can spend as long as you’d like satisfying your oral fixation.”

She pouted despite being extremely excited for all the ways she’d get to play with her later. “I still think gift wrapping is a job we should pawn off to Mathew and Tyler. Gift wrapping is for mortals.”

“Mathew and Tyler are Gift Bag Gays, sweetheart.”

“Gift Bag Gays?,” she echoed with a sigh. “You’re going to have to fill me in at some point as to how many different types of gays there are. Bad At Driving Gays. Cant Cook Gays. Checkered Vans Gays. Trench Coat Gays. Cocaine For Breakfast, Lunch, And Dinner Gays. Don’t Sleep Gays. Cant Sit Right Gays— I’m losing track of all these gays.”

“You forgot the Cant Make A Phone Call Without Hyperventilating Gays and the Speaks In Real Life Like They’re On Tumblr Gays.” Anastasia smirked at her. “Oh, and the Always Horny Gays and the Musical Theatre Gays. Those humanoids are pretty much carrying the LGBTQ community on their backs, honestly.”

She snorted. “Humanoids?”

“I’m being inclusive!” 

At that she practically doubled over laughing. Humanoids. Only her wife could drop that in the middle of a conversation with a straight face. Only her wife wouldn’t bat an eyelid at the utter ridiculousness of the term. She had absolutely no business being this adorable... it was really quite distracting.

She reached out and caressed her cheek. Sometimes it was easy to get caught up in life and take things for granted, she never wanted to take little moments like this for granted. She never wanted to take her for granted, or the peace she felt when she was with her.

“Indeed you are, my love,” she breathed, her words a whisper of the peace in her heart and a sigh of hope on the lips of love, and she smiled softly as she leaned down to kiss her brow. “Indeed you are.”

Inside the penthouse had been decorated since the very first day of December. Their tree was so spectacular that it actually came very close to exceeding both nature and the tree at Rockefeller Centre. Kamilah loved nothing more than walking among the white and gold twinkle-lights in the living room, sitting and gazing upon the pretty gold star atop the tree with her wife in her arms as it snowed outside. It was remarkably easy to remember what was good in the world whilst snuggling up in a room decorated so beautifully.

“When did you draw this?,” Kamilah asked as she emerged from the hall closet armed with the rolls of sparkly wrapping paper and an old sketch book of Anastasia’s that had fallen from the shelf. 

Nobody really knew that Anastasia could draw and paint extraordinarily well. Or that she’d considered it as a career option whilst she was in high school after passing her art exams with flying colours. She rarely ever explored her artistic side nowadays — instead she preferred playing the piano or her violin — and when she did Kamilah was really the only one who ever saw her masterpieces.

For a moment she studied the sketch of herself that graced the very last page in the book. It had been done in pencil and the artist’s skills were apparent. The single sharp line that edged her nose, the delicate shading on her bottom lip, the suggestion of light reflected off her forehead and dancing in the wild strands of her hair.

In the sketch she lay asleep and peaceful in bed— and beautiful. She had always thought of herself as beautiful but the way she was presented in the picture was different. She had been one of the lauded belles of society since her mortal life. The woman who walked into ballrooms and made conversations stop. 

But in this sketch she was... beautiful in a whole other way that she hadn’t ever considered. Peaceful looking. Free of any cosmetics or any couture outfit that enhanced her natural looks. Her hair disheveled from sleep. It was oddly bizarre to see herself this way.

And in the corner were the initials A.S.

This was how Anastasia saw her.

The Bloodkeeper looked up from where she was sat on the floor at the coffee table, where she was already writing the gift tags that would be stuck onto the gifts once they were properly wrapped. 

“On that ski trip Adrian convinced us to take to Switzerland with him,” Anastasia laughed lightly. What a trip that had been. They’d all been so terrible at skiing they’d feared a second death was looming over them and had given up in the mountains after only two days and had spent the rest of their trip exploring Geneva. “I couldn’t sleep very well at all that trip for some reason, so I had a lot of time on my hands.”

She sat down beside her and lay the rolls of tape and gift wrap down on the table, and continued to study the drawing. “Why have you never shown me this?”

“I probably just forgot,” Anastasia shrugged.

“Annie, it’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Is there anything in life that you’re not absurdly good at, might I ask?”

Anastasia blushed immediately and buried her face in her shoulder. “You can fluster me all you want, sweetheart. I’m still not giving away any information about your presents.”

She huffed indignantly and kissed the top of her head. “Just tell me where it was discovered. Alexandria? Antirhodos? A tomb... or perhaps a temple?”

“None of those,” Anastasia giggled as she went about beginning to wrap up Lily’s gift.

“Memphis?”

In lieu of an actual answer she playfully whacked her over the head with a roll of wrapping paper. So she grabbed another and whacked her right back. Then Anastasia retaliated. And so did she... which somehow led to them running around the couch and vaulting over pieces of furniture like a pair of raving lunatics whilst fencing with the unopened rolls of wrapping paper. 

Even pillows wound up being weaponised. 

It was really quite ridiculous.

“This is a fight you will not win,” she wheezed with laughter as she kicked one of the cushions from the couch towards Anastasia, who used her abilities to freeze it midair and fire it right back at her face. “That is very much cheating!”

“Spank me for it, why don’t you?”

She snorted. “Oh, I will when I catch you.”

“Catch me then,” Anastasia beamed whilst gleefully jumping on the other end of the couch. She shot a mirth filled glare at her that held the promise of dismemberment, mayhem, and the apocalypse.

This whole thing was downright ridiculous in the best possible way, she thought to herself. Here she was, more than two thousand years old, acting like the little hellion of a child she’d once been when she hadn’t yet been broken out of her uncivilised behaviours. Acting like she hadn’t a care or responsibility in the world. And it was glorious. She was so lucky she would have her, her sweet Annie, as her wife and her love. She’d truly brought the sun back into her lonely, grey life.

Without another word she tossed the roll of wrapping paper aside and dove at her, grabbing her by the waist and tackling her. They both landed unceremoniously in a heap of tangled limbs on the couch, laughing hysterically.

And they weren’t even drunk. Yet.

“Caught you,” she growled, grabbing her wrists as she smothered her with kisses. 

She smelled the scent of roses in her perfume and it nearly maddened her as she trailed open mouthed kisses down the sides of her neck.

Or perhaps she was already mad.

Anastasia’s high pitched squeals and giggles echoed throughout the entire penthouse as she squirmed in her hold, wrapping her legs around her waist as Kamilah mercilessly tickled her ribs and blew raspberries against a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. If they had neighbours she was quite certain the police would’ve already been at the door thinking someone was being murdered.

She pulled back and murmured, “I’m still irritated I couldn’t figure out what my gift is.” 

“Are you?” Anastasia smirked and her mockingly wounded voice descended into Stygian depths. She pressed open-mouthed kisses to her jaw. 

“Yes.” She yanked at her hair in emphasis. “Evidently you’re immune to all my powers of persuasion.”

Anastasia hissed, but her grip didn’t prevent her from pulling her in and pressing her mouth to hers again. Anastasia nipped at her lips and then licked at them, softening the sting. “I’ll have to see what I can do to regain your good graces then.”

And she did. 

She felt herself melt with the stark bliss that only Anastasia could give to her, the shattering realisation of her words and her hands and her mouth. She was gasping for breath, shaking, lost, unseeing. The centre of her being pulsing with pleasure.

In only a matter of moments she had forgotten all about the burning desire to find out all she could about her Dark Solstice gift as her wife allowed her to have her wicked, wicked way with her.

Just because she might have had a heart now, some things simply weren't ever going to change.

She felt enthralled by Anastasia, enthralled by her own sexuality. She bared something in her that she hadn't even known was there before she met her. Something base, utterly primal. Had it always been there, this fierce drive to feel so much? Or was it something that had simply been engendered by her face buried between her thighs?

Or perhaps her touching her?

Or submitting to her her with so much trust sparkling in the endless oceans of her eyes?

She knew that many would’ve said she should be wary of this part of herself. Women were all too often exhorted to ignore any animal urges they might’ve had. To be polite. Formal. Cold. But the flames of her desire, meeting and burning higher with Anastasia’s body entangled with hers, were intoxicating.

It felt wonderful.

Too good to ignore. 

Too good to give up.

And when Anastasia had followed her commands and she decided to reward her, her tongue traced her wetness, into the depths of her pleasure, she cried out, her eyes caught with hers. And Kamilah smiled, crooked and sinister because of her fangs after biting down on her thigh, but a smile nonetheless. A smile that wasn't exactly demure or gentle-womanly in the slightest.

But a smile that was all for her.

Only her.

No woman and certainly no man had ever received such a look from Kamilah Sayeed before her. Nobody else had ever known how it felt to be adored by her in this way.

“Just like that,” she said, her voice wavering as Anastasia worshipped her with her hands.

“This?,” Anastasia smirked as she thrust short and hard into her and ground along her thigh, the impact sending sharp jolts of pleasure through her body. 

“Yes, that. Ah— Don’t stop.”

Her nails dug into the backs of her wife’s shoulders and trailed down the length of her back as she did it again.

And again.

Until the white hot heat between them finally combusted. Until she felt hot liquid wash over her limbs. Until she looked up and wondered why she'd ever tried to run from this.

Anastasia was watching her with passion. With lust.

With so much love.

She felt tears prickling at her eyes as she called out her name and Anastasia whimpered above her, her hips undulating without rhythm, but all the while she watched her with those eyes.

And when she at last stilled and rested her sweaty forehead against hers, she whispered, "I love you.”

“I love you," she breathed in wonder, feeling her chest fill with warmth. "I love you so much."

Kamilah kissed her until she was limp and pliable and still so very hot against her, and then she purred into her ear, “So much for gift wrapping.”

“We... we really just did that on the couch,” Anastasia laughed breathily.

She pulled the knitted blanket draped over the back of the couch over them both as Anastasia lay down on her chest to catch her breath, the soft glow of the decorative light glistening off of their dewy skin and making her hair look as if it had been spun of pure bronze.

Somehow the decorated tree and the electronic fireplace only made everything all the more atmospheric. They were symbols of the love between them, not money that graced their bank accounts. There was a kind of glory to them when they were all lit up and they were together like this that exceeded anything all the money in the world could possibly buy. A peace and a sense of belonging unlike anything Kamilah had ever known.


	2. candy canes and silver lanes that glow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by; It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas by Michael Bublé.

“I still don’t know what you were thinking, Kamilah,” Adrian goaded, his voice like nails on a chalkboard that distracted her from the beautiful views of a snow covered New York whizzing by outside the train window. He was far more smug than someone wearing an ugly holiday sweater with a polar bear on the front should ever be... that sweater alone was basically an invitation for her to stab him. “Your wife is the most powerful psychic in the world. Did you honestly believe you could sneak into Raines Corp and snoop through her office for your gifts undetected— and with Lily, Mathew, and Tyler as accomplices, no less?”

“You may be extraordinary but it seems you have a rather unrealistic view of your own abilities, mon amie,” Serafine teased.

Kamilah huffed and stuffed a handful of her favourite vodka infused gummy bears into her mouth before taking a long sip out of her stiff gin and tonic. Really, sometimes it would be much easier if one were allowed to simply hit people over the head or slice their jugulars as a warning without facing retribution from the wife.

“Out of all the gifts I could’ve received upon Turning, I will never understand why the universe chose to deny me mind reading abilities,” she grumbled. “It all seems rather unfair in the grand scheme of things.”

“Because the universe knew you’d use them to spoil every gift anyone ever tried to give you, you massive dork,” Anastasia laughed as she appeared back in their private carriage with Lily and a bottle of Heidsieck 1907. She was also far too proud of herself for having foiled her heist by planting a wrapped gift box in her desk drawer with a single piece of paper in it with the words ‘Nice try, Kami xo’ printed on it in every language she knew. 

She both loved and loathed she’d become so predictable.

Loved it far more than loathed it, though.

“I am not amused in the slightest,” she grumbled as she unceremoniously pulled her onto her lap and held her there with a vice-like grip. She did her best to look utterly pathetic in the hopes that she might take pity on her and give her some sort of hint as to what her mysterious gift was, but she had no such luck. “Not one bit.”

“Are you ever?,” Anastasia teased.

“Frequently.” She could still smell her own sent on her body, and it satisfied her in a primal way. Despite her bemusement the Bloodkeeper gasped as she buried her nose in her long hair and inhaled. Her scent was strongest here, in her gilded curls so soft and pretty in the early evening light breaking over the Hudson Valley. “And ardently.”

“So, y’all,” Lily said as she sat down and took a long sip out of the Heidsieck bottle in her hands through a ridiculous festive twirly straw that lit up she’d been carrying everywhere since mid November. “Since — after years of bugging the council — I’ve finally been allowed to take over Priya’s orgy since the dumb bitch is dead—“

“Lily,” Adrian snorted. “You ought to have more respect for the deceased.”

“Sis was a raging bitch, though, and I don’t think she’d want us to do her dirty by denying it,” Lily shrugged. “Like, she was even more of a raging bitch than Hangry Kamilah.”

“These fools are torturing me,” she said to Anastasia. 

“Did you just tattle on us?,” Lily snorted.

She shrugged. “So it seems.”

Anastasia smirked and pressed a kiss on her forehead before turning to the others. “Guys, leave my Kami alone. She’s hangry and still pissed off she couldn’t find her gifts in my office. We need to support her in her hour of need.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not hangry.”

“Eat your gummy bears, sweetheart,” Anastasia whispered, popping a gummy bear in her mouth for her. She then turned to Adrian and said, “Not even you can deny the fact Priya was a bitch.”

Kamilah sighed happily, her mouth now full of her favourite snack as she pressed a kiss to her wife’s cheek. “She was our first kill together, my love.”

“You two are such a funny couple,” Serafine giggled. “But I agree. Priya Lacroix was indeed — how did you so eloquently put it, Lily? — a raging bitch even worse than our dear Hangry Kamilah.”

“I’m not hangry!”

At that Adrian chuckled. “Well... she did offer me a position as one of her house boys back in 1952, which I did not appreciate.”

“I stabbed her in eyes for that in defence of your honour, thank you very much,” Kamilah stated proudly. “She was blind for four hours and the blood ruined the dress she was wearing. I found the whole thing rather enjoyable.”

“ANYWAY,” Lily said obnoxiously loud. “Since I’ve taken over the annual orgy planning. I just wanna know which of you dumbasses are planning on joining and what are the boundaries?”

“I’ll be there,” Serafine beamed as she snatched the bottle of Heidsieck from her and took a long sip through the ridiculous flashing straw that Kamilah was quite certain could give a mortal a seizure. “I have no major limitations, as you’re already aware.”

“As will I,” Adrian nodded, “and I don’t think I have any major boundaries either. Just as long as we’re all clear it’s a completely platonic affair.”

All eyes fell to them and Kamilah said, “Well whilst you three are engaging in sex acts with all of Manhattan that would likely give you Chlamydia, were you mortal, my wife and I will be enjoying a romantic evening to ourselves in our room. I don’t share what’s mine.”

Lily groaned. “Guys, don’t be boring.”

Boring, Kamilah thought. Boring? Little did this fool know she’d brought along a whole chest of tools to ensure her wife was adequately pleasured during the festivities. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the fact she and Anastasia both preferred to engage in their power exchanges somewhere comfortable and private, as far as she was concerned. Sex was a sacred thing between them, a near spiritual experience every time they indulged in their deepest desires... and that didn’t have to involve anybody else.

As the domme in the relationship, Anastasia’s comfort and sense of security was the single most important thing to her. Whilst she certainly did have an exhibitionist streak in her, the one bacchanalia she’d been to had been just a little too much for her and she’d privately confessed her discomfort with attending any more during one of their regular discussions concerning their sex life. Which, of course, Kamilah had vowed to respect absolutely without question — just as she did all of her hard limits. This was something Anastasia knew she did not like, so it was non negotiable and would remain that way unless Anastasia was the one to suggest trying it again. She knew what it was to feel unsafe during sex, to feel overwhelmed and anxious in a thousand terrible ways, and that was the very last thing she wished for her wife to feel — especially when the majority of their encounters required Anastasia’s trust in her to be so absolute.

Before either she or Anastasia could pipe up, Serafine reached across the table and tugged on Lily’s ear. “You mustn’t try to pressure them into attending when they’ve already said no, ma beauté. Even as a joke.”

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it to come across like that,” Lily said quickly, looking at them apologetically. “The fuck was in those gummy bears I stole from you, Kamilah? I’m buzzed already.”

She pouted petulantly. “That’s why you shouldn’t take my snacks. You’re far too much of a lightweight.”

Anastasia laughed reaching out to pat Lily’s arm and to affectionately stroke Kamilah’s cheek placate them both before they could begin bickering over gummy bears. “I’m sure your orgy will be great, Lil, and the playlist you showed me was fire. But whilst you’re being topped by half of New York, I’ll be being topped by my Kami.”

Warmth rose to Kamilah’s cheeks at the nickname and she held her tighter. My Kami. She liked that far too much for her own good. She liked being her Kami. Very much, indeed.

“We’re comparing notes over breakfast the next day,” Lily smirked as she defiantly grabbed more of Kamilah’s beloved gummy bears. “I’m thinking we get a whole ass cheesecake like we’re fucking Rachel and Chandler, put on The Grinch, and see who still has the most bruises and handprints on their ass by the time the movie is done. Winner buys the next cheesecake.”

Anastasia giggled. “You can count me in for that.”

“You two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever witnessed,” Kamilah snorted.

Lily wiggled her eyebrows around dramatically. “She was my girl before she was yours, Sugar Mama Sayeed.”

“That makes it sound like I was fucking you on the low,” Anastasia laughed. 

Lily started laughing. “You’re the Zuko to my Katara and the only one who understands what I mean when I talk about a deep sub space being like The Avatar State. You know, eyes glowing and fucking energybending and all that crazy ass shit. That’s like... a whole mind fuck as far as I’m concerned. But, like, an elite ass mind fuck and not a regular ass mind fuck. You feel?”

“I feel,” Anastasia nodded, lightly tapping her temple with her pointer finger. “So I guess that means we’ve been fucking for years.”

“Damn right we have,” Lily nodded, mirroring the gesture at her own temple. 

“Did either of you understand one word of that?,” Adrian laughed. “What are we supposed to be feeling? And when did an ass become a unit of measurement?”

“I have no idea,” Serafine shrugged. “Does anyone know what the movie with the blue aliens they made us watch has to do with anything?”

“I understood all of the words separately,” Kamilah nodded, smiling softly to herself all the while.

“Serafine. Serafine. SERAFINE,” Lily sighed, “we’re talking about the better Avatar. Like the one I’m talking about when I call Anastasia the real life Aang, or the cosplays we used to do as Zuko and Katara, or when I talk about how Kano is basically Uncle Iroh and Yoda’s lovechild, or how Kamilah was basically Toph when she was training me. Not the blue Avatars.”

“Toph?,” she echoed, her brow furrowing. “What the hell is a Toph?”

“A badass character from the series,” Anastasia whispered. “You’d like her.”

“There’s another Avatar?,” Adrian asked excitedly. He had enjoyed the blue alien movie far too much... and she was still enduring his rapt fascination with the blue creatures all these months later. It was really quite exhausting. “Is it good? Would I enjoy it as much as the other one?”

Lily laughed and rested a hand on his shoulder as she pulled up Netflix on her phone. “Oh, my brotha, allow me to blow your mind.”

As the train rumbled on she only half listened to the conversation passing between them and occasionally glanced at the cartoon everyone was watching, holding her wife on her lap as she mostly watched out of the window contentedly. It had been a few weeks now since the air had turned frosty and the days had shrunk into darkness, since the Dark Solstice season had arrived. It had begun right after the mortal’s Thanksgiving — with their families, feasts, and football games. Then — just like they did — during the next six weeks vampires shopped and decorated, worshipped whichever gods from their mortal lives that they still happened to believe in — or in some unhealthily obsessed people’s case, they worshipped Anastasia as if she were a goddess amongst men — and they made merry. Their hearts felt warm in the winter cold. They found more compassion for strangers, and they remembered that there were miracles in the world. Divine or festive or both, they joined together in an extraordinary festival.

People tended to think the only time the earth was renewed was in the springtime. Kamilah, however, found that it was renewed around the Dark Solstice when hard, old hearts like her own were softened. When laughter drowned out any anguish. When magic transformed the dull and mundane into something beautiful and sparkly. She found that the Dark Solstice changed her… from the inside out, and even for a moment filled her with youth and the hope of a mortal woman once again.

Ebenezer’s castle was an extraordinary sight, and a seasonable one, that met their eyes every year when they flung the horse drawn carriage door open after climbing into it at the train station a few miles away. In the open courtyard the cobblestones were covered with a thin sheen of frost and surrounded by massive snowdrifts shovelled dutifully out of the way of the carriages by mortal servants, lit by the dim orange rays of old fashioned gas lanterns, the majestic horse drawn victorian carriages carrying the Manhattanites stood lined up down the driveway, red quilted blankets trimmed with gold cast over the horses bodies. With bright beady eyes the immortal carriage drivers dressed up in their authentic victorian tuxedos and top hats glanced merrily at each other, sniggering a little, sniffing in the cold. 

As the castle door opened, one of the elder residents who’d seen at least eight centuries come and go emerged carrying a lantern to greet them. Even from outside with most of the sounds muffled by the fresh blanket of snow they could hear the singing of the old-time carols that many long dead vampires had composed on distant snow covered battlefields that were fallow and held by frost.

“Y’all the fact we go from a train to fucking carriages makes me feel like we’re going to Hogwarts,” Lily said, just like she did every single year as they climbed out of the carriage they had ridden in pride of place at the head of the procession of arriving vampires. “Somebody get me some goddamn butter beer and a bowl of pumpkin soup.”

Before Kamilah could say anything to point out that she’d indulged in one too many alcoholic gummy bears, she felt a snowball hit her back. She immediately turned to see who this foolish attacker with a death wish was. And smiled when she caught his eye.

Kamilah had the most devilishly wolfish look about her as she glared at her brother — a mixture of impending payback with a snowball and something a wee bit more intimate, like a tackle in the snow. But she wouldn't. Not in front of their clansmen. Not when this was such a sacred occasion. At least, Adrian hoped not... the wool of his fancy new holiday sweater wouldn’t survive being buried alive in a snowdrift.

She immediately picked up two snowballs and tossed one that hit Adrian square in the face with such force he stumbled backwards and landed flat on his backside on the snow, then tossed the other at Lily for having the audacity to eat so many of her beloved gummy bears.

She smiled as Lily threw a snowball back at her that missed her by a mile. Grinning, Kamilah quickly armed herself and threw one at Anastasia; only it missed her too and hit Serafine in the crotch. Good thing it was soft snow. Serafine grinned and wiped off the snow, slowly, deliberately.

Adrian looked like he could burst into flames, he was so red faced that everyone just started laughing. 

Collectively they may have been a good few thousand years old, but they were by no means above a good old fashioned snowball fight. There was something inherently majestic and mirthful about the winter holidays that seemed to have been abandoned by most modern mortals sometime in the earliest days of the twentieth century; something they had flippantly cast aside, something that had been foolishly abandoned and was tragically forgotten in the abandonment — something that Kamilah had always gone out of her way to ensure the vampires would never lose in their Dark Solstice.

The moment they were inside Kamilah immediately shoved her wife into an alcove below the grand staircase, which had become something of an odd tradition of theirs that neither of them could remember the exact origins of without Anastasia doing some sort of psychic gymnastics — and the mystery was probably much more exciting. All they knew was that no Dark Solstice celebrations could commence until this silly little ritual had been completed.

“Annie, my Annie," she whispered, and drew her lips to hers. She kissed her like a woman dying. Like a woman taking her last breath.

Showing her how she cherished her with the kisses that tasted like salvation.

And as their lips that were numb from the cold tumbled over one another’s something in Kamilah blossomed open and expanded in her chest and seemed so full it would make her burst. She wasn't sure she could contain this feeling, this emotion, she had for her.

Her wife.

She loved this woman — rather a lot. Perhaps even more than loved her, if that was even possible.

The thought should frighten her, but all she felt was happiness.

True happiness.

She didn’t even mind at all that they were kissing right below a horribly ostentatious portrait of Ebenezer. His face, which had reportedly once been as beautiful as an angel's but by the time the picture was painted had horribly aged and seemed permanently settled into a livid scowl. An extremely faint scar earned in one long forgotten war ran from just below his hairline on the right side of his face, bisecting the eyebrow, somehow skipping the eye itself but gouging a furrow into the lean cheek and catching the edge of his upper lip slightly, making it twist a little. The scar ended in a missing divot of flesh in the line of the man's severe jaw. He had dull and emotionless crystal-grey eyes.

When she'd danced with him — once — thirty dark solstices ago at one of the balls, she had thought he'd looked like Hades. God of the underworld. God of the dead.

“You’re all wet,” Anastasia laughed. She placed her palms against her chest, brushing the flakes of snow off of her clothes. 

“Indeed I am.”

Anastasia laughed and playfully shoved her for her filthy remark. She allowed herself to sway an inch backward with her thrust — to make her feel better about the fact she had the upper body strength of an infant, naturally — before righting herself. She stilled, staring down at her trapped between her body and the wall. Her forehead barely came past her chin. 

She could still feel the brush of her breath on her lips. The coolness of her hands seemed to burn through the fitted leather fabric of her Burberry trench coat. This close her blue eyes were enormous, and she could see sharp shards of green surrounding her pupils. Anastasia blinked up at her, her red hair a fiery halo about her head in the castle’s ancient lantern light, and Kamilah felt her lips quirk. She really was rather extraordinary.

“I love you, Kami,” Anastasia sighed happily.

“As I love you, little firefly,” she smirked, both of the laughing softly at the old nickname. Through their partnership the answers to all of her life’s questions seemed to mysteriously come tumbling forth in little moments like these. “I—“

“Guys, they have those chocolate chip cookies you see on Instagram all the time!,” Lily beamed, interrupting the moment without a second thought as she appeared in their alcove armed with two handfuls of chunky chocolate chip cookies. One of which was already half eaten. “Look at this shit,” she spoke with her mouth full, “we ain’t playing this year!”

She heaved an exhausted sigh and cast a withering glance at her protégé, weary from travelling and from... whatever this was. “Lily.”

“Kamilah,” Lily mumbled around her cookies.

“Who plans this whole occasion, might I ask?”

“Y’all do.”

“Then, if you know we’re fully aware of the cookies, did you really think it was necessary to interrupt a romantic moment between my wife and I—“

“Abso-fucking-lutley,” Lily grinned, waving a cookie in their faces. “Just look at these bad boys! They have Nutella on the inside! Nutella! We! Ain’t! Playing!”

Anastasia snickered as Kamilah dropped her head to rest against her shoulder. Were it any other time of year and not the day before the official celebrations began, she might’ve been more tempted to draw her blades. However, in the spirit of the Dark Solstice she had vowed to continue this next week as she meant it to go on. She would try her damnedest to allow each one of Drunk Lily’s ridiculous insights to encourage her to joyfully — or as close to being joyful as she was capable of being — partake in the festivities in her own unique way.

“Anastasia!,” Lula Jacobs squealed with excitement as she wandered through the huge oak wood doors with Arnold and young Vladimir and spotted her friend. 

Kamilah stepped aside with Lily and watched as the child barrelled into her wife, who picked her up and spun her around, then gave both her and her toy elephant a kiss before returning her to her feet. Child vampires who still had the mental age of children all seemed to adore Anastasia, as she would happily play with them whenever they asked or show them interesting tricks she could perform with her abilities.

“Look at my new shoes!,” Lula beamed whilst excitedly jumping up and down on the spot to show off how her bright pink sparkly sneakers lit up.

Anastasia’s jaw dropped. “I’m going to need like fifty pairs of those!”

“I have them in purple, too!” She jumped up and down a few more times. “And I asked Santa to bring them in blue!”

“Esteban and I are both very jealous,” Anastasia smiled, bopping her on the nose with her stuffed animal’s trunk and making her laugh. “We’ll never be this fashionable. You’ve set the bar so high, sweetie.”

“Privet moy drug,” Vladimir said bashfully to Anastasia in Russian as he opened his arms for a hug.

Anastasia immediately bent down and wrapped the little boy in her embrace. She’d developed a soft spot for him not long after she’d freed the prisoners from Cecil’s dungeons, knowing all too well how it was to be in a country without having a real grasp on the language. She’d been instrumental in helping him settle into Clan Matsuo, regularly checking in on him and helping him with his English whenever she could, she’d even taught Lula to speak some Russian so that they could communicate and he’d be less isolated.

“Malen'kiy,” The Bloodkeeper murmured, ruffling his dark hair affectionately. “Kak zhivyosh?”

“I is practicing English everyday,” the child said slowly, his eyes sparkling with pride. “Is difficult but... are... improving.”

“Zamechatel'no!,” Anastasia beamed, giving him a high five.

“She’s great with the kids, isn’t she?,” Adrian commented, appearing at Kamilah’s side as she watched Anastasia interacting with every immortal child who made a bee line for her upon their arrival in the castle with rapt fascination.

A quick glance at him as he watched Anastasia was a curious thing. Kamilah had noticed long ago that if you looked carefully at people's eyes the first five seconds they looked at a person, the truth of their feelings would shine through for just an instant before it flickered away.

“She is,” Kamilah nodded, smiling ever so slightly as Vladimir showed off an odd looking purple furry robot toy that looked awfully like the creature from the Gremlins movie she’d been forced to watch a week earlier. 

“She reminds me of my Eleanor and how she was with Charles,” he said, his eyes glistening slightly. “She never ran out of patience with him, even when he refused to settle or happened to do something that made our lives more difficult. He adored us both but he was his mother’s boy through and through.”

She gave his forearm a tight squeeze, knowing he could grow extremely sad at this time of year pining for his wife and son, and the life he’d never gotten to have with them. 

Even before she’d truly known him through and through she had been able to tell he had lost someone close somehow. You could feel that in people, an openness, or maybe it was an opening that you spoke into when you talked to them. With other people, people who hadn’t been through something like that, you felt the solid wall of naivety. Your words went scattershot off of it.

There was nothing she could say or do to take his pain from him, no matter how ardently she wished it. They were stranded on the opposite sides of death, at least for now, and that was all there was to it. So she just stood there at his side, her hand on his arm, in a companionable silence. But why was it that silence sometimes felt like a physical thing with a weight of its own?

She knew that some limbs must be re-broken to set properly, her heart, too, had needed to shatter before it could truly heal... and now she was happier than she’d ever been before. Even happier than she’d been when she’d been young and innocent. But despite all her intelligence and worldliness, she didn’t know how Adrian might find this same sort of peace. And that was all she wanted for him. 

That was all she wanted for everyone she loved this Dark Solstice, and each one that came after.


	3. happy golden days of yore.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by; Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas by Sam Smith.

It may have been a social occasion, but it had become an annual tradition for Kamilah to take her wife to the top of the highest observatory tower at the Castle, late at night on the first official night of Dark Solstice celebrations, and together they’d watch the moon rise and the elaborate fireworks display that followed it through the state of the art skylights. The tower may have been very high and Anastasia may not have particularly loved heights but she wasn't afraid when she was with Kamilah — and this was about as far away from Lily’s wild and extremely drunken orgy as they could get without actually leaving the building.

Every year the ancient vampire would steal food from the kitchens before it could reach the banquet tables and they’d picnic up there, in their little haven far from the prying eyes of their clansmen and drunken family members. She brought up at least forty of the cosiest blankets money could buy and dozens upon dozens of brightly coloured silk woven pillows, too, so they wouldn't have to lay on the bare wooden floor, and even lit some ambient scented candles. Glittering tinsel, rainbow lights, glass balls, and candy canes all dangled from the pine trees she’d had installed to really make the evening special. There were even massive decorative gingerbread palaces — as she’d decided regular old gingerbread houses were far too plain for a date night with the love of her life — that she’d employed her interns to decorate under Mathew’s supervision with brightly coloured gumdrops and marzipan and peppermint and marshmallow fluff snow dusted with edible white glitter.

Outside fragile snowflakes fell from high in the sky and danced in the air as they fell.

Flurries lifted and twirled far below, the sound of the children’s laughter as they skated on the frozen lakes and the music from Lily’s party echoing throughout the castle. It seemed the whole world had turned to white, as if all troubles were far away.

“The gift giving doesn’t happen until the 3rd day of celebrations, Sweetheart. I—,” Anastasia panted, cutting herself off with a sharp moan. She threw back her head, riding the strap attached to her hard and fast, the sweat sliding down between her breasts. “This is very convincing... but I— ah— am still not telling you what your gift is. No matter— mmm— how good you’re making me feel.”

Kamilah lurched up, half sitting, her arm propping her up, and licked the sweat from her body. “Baby,” she groaned against her chest, her nails digging into her backside. “You’ll be the death of me.”

Anastasia whimpered, long and high pitched, wanting to arch, to thrash, to scream in Kamilah’s tight hold. Instead she opened her mouth and bit her shoulder, tasting her blood.

Tasting her want.

Tasting her soul deep need.

Then as she began spreading her and rubbing into her folds, swirling her thumb around her clit, she gasped. "Please, Kami."

"What do you want?,” she whispered at her neck as she kissed the exposed skin beneath the festive ruby studded day collar she was wearing, an incubus, dark and alive and in her. "Tell me. What do you need?"

"I..." Her mouth opened, wordless, and her eyes widened, blue and guileless. “Ah—“

"Be a good girl. Tell me exactly what your heart desires," her smoky voice curled around her. “Use your words.”

"You."

“Me?,” she teased, slowing her thumb.

“Kami, please—“

“As you wish.” She chuckled, dark and low, and thrust her hip upwards. “Look at me. You know the rules. You may finish, but only if you keep looking at me.”

Anastasia cried out, gasping, holding her head to her even as she sucked one nipple into her mouth. She felt the pull, felt the answering gush, and knew she was falling apart, spreading outward, a star exploding.

Kamilah gasped and let go of her breast, bowing her head to kiss her chest, her dark hair wild and tangled against her as she whimpered and shook. Before meeting her, Kamilah had thought that this was always done in darkness and with eyes screwed tightly shut, that usually all the pleasure was hugged tightly to oneself, the pleasure-giver shut out. In her vast experience she knew that lovers did not always want to love with eyes open and focused on each other’s whenever it was feasible to do so — and she had grown to love the intimacy that having Anastasia look right at her brought.

She watched Anastasia with rapt attention as she arched in her hold, moaning, the lightning blazing from her center, sparking through her limbs, flying out her fingertips.

She was incandescent.

Kamilah held her tightly atop her, her hold strong enough to bruise, pulling her legs up around her own hips, and ground the strap into her, once, twice, three times. The friction of it moving within her sent sharp pangs of pleasure through her own body and she could feel her wife’s every muscle tense. She groaned into Anastasia’s ear like a woman dying and then fell senseless and limp against her as they both caught their breath.

“Kami,” Anastasia whimpered.

“My good girl,” she murmured, dragging her nails down her back hard enough to make her shudder as she kissed her collarbones. “You were so good. So, so good.”

“Can I touch you more?,” breathed the Bloodkeeper. “Please.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. The sweetness of that question murmured quietly in her ear was just too much for her heart to bear.

She pulled out and Anastasia climbed off of her lap, coaxing her down against the pillows before removing the strap and tossing it aside. 

One hand flew to Kamilah’s mouth as Anastasia’s face then disappeared between her thighs. She bit down roughly on her knuckles, trying weakly to keep any sound from escaping. The other hand clutched at the wild ginger strands of hair, that fiery waist length mane, as Anastasia ravished her with her mouth, licking, kissing, sucking, worshiping.

She gasped, unable to fill her lungs properly. What she was doing to her was diabolical, something supernatural, an act so extraordinary she wanted to squirm away. Wanted to hold her there forever and never let her leave. How was it even possible that that one woman could give her such pleasure?

Anastasia tongued her and she arched into her face, wanting, wanting, rubbing herself against her, noises from her throat escaping around her knuckles. She was hot, trembling, shaking with her desire.

The Bloodkeeper opened her mouth wide over her, thrusting and swirling her tongue again and again against her clit. She fell apart, exploding from her centre, moaning her name mindlessly, her hands filled with her thick hair as she licked her relentlessly.

She was scattered, her cluttered mind blanking, for some long, unmeasurable amount of time. She simply existed, a creature of pure want and wonderment. And with all her parts finally resettled, when she unclenched her fingers from her long hair, and gasped for breath, her body dewed with moisture, Anastasia crawled up her body and her hand drifted back down between her legs and she pulled her into a kiss so filthily explicit her tongue might as well have been fucking her mouth.

They moaned in unison and Kamilah wrapped her hand over hers, caressing her hand as she pleasured her. “Annie— Don’t you dare stop... please don’t stop...”

“I’ve got you,” Anastasia soothed, moving faster as Kamilah’s hips pumped into their shared grasp. The feeling of her sliding inside of her was a pleasure so deep it was nearly a pain and she ground back down again, closing her eyes, savouring this purely physical joy.

Except it wasn't purely physical, was it? The thought that it was her Annie inside her, Annie driving this pleasure into her now, Annie responding to her begging her to go faster... oh, that was the addicting thought.

She moaned and Anastasia’s hips jerked at the sound.

And then she sucked her tongue and hot pleasure speared her. Kamilah convulsed, coming over her own fingers, over her wife’s. She smeared them both in it as she yanked herself through it, shuddering as she collapsed in Anastasia’s embrace. Utterly sated and exhausted. Her entire body trembling with the intensity of what had just happened.

Anastasia clung to her against her, pressing kisses into her mouth as she murmured, "That was so beautiful, Kami. You’re so beautiful."

The redhead half sat up to pull the blankets over them both and then she took her back into her arms as she lay back down on the makeshift bed. The little flames crackled and the few candles still lit smelled wonderful, she thought, as her fuzzy mind began to drift.

Her wife was... different from other women in some way she still was unable to fully understand. She was more pure, more bright and more brilliant, more golden. She called to her on an animal level. Her song had seeped into her ancient veins, her lungs, and her bones until she could no longer divide her from her marrow.

She needed her.

It was as if she’d merely sleepwalked through everything else in her life prior to her arrival.

“That was...”

“Wow,” Anastasia confirmed, carding her fingers through her hair.

“Wow, indeed.”

They both laughed softly against each other’s lips, still struggling to catch their breath.

Anastasia still tasted very faintly of the mulled wine she’d stolen from the kitchens for their picnic and everything else beyond her lips fled Kamilah’s mind. A once-so-vital chain had long since broken in her psyche and everything she had held back, everything she'd once restrained with all her might, had been set free. As she lay there in her love’s arms and worshipped her mouth, desperate for the feel, for the taste of her, her wife, her queen, her Annie. She was soft and sweet and warm, and very few things made her happier than these moments she was granted the privilege of devouring her. To seize her and hold her and never let her go. The deep unfathomable well of her urges towards her had once frightened her, and she had feared that if she ever became aware of them, they would frighten her as well... but as it turned out Anastasia harboured those exact same urges.

“Are you feeling good about everything that happened?,” she murmured, tracing her bottom lip with the pad of her thumb. “Anything you didn’t like or would like to discuss?”

“Mmm,” Anastasia hummed deliriously in her exhaustion. “That strap was amazing.”

She snorted. “I told you that you could take it.”

The both laughed lightly and Anastasia kissed the tip of her nose. “Are you feeling good about everything?”

“Indeed,” she breathed, her breaths now beginning to stabilise. “That mouth of yours is all the wonders of the world as far as I’m concerned.”

Anastasia giggled and brought her hand to her mouth and, her azure eyes glittering in the candlelight, pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

And then the edge of her teeth.

She felt the warm softness of her lips, the prickle of her breath against tender skin, and a sort of shock seemed to go straight through the centre of her body.

Kamilah turned her hand in her hold, studying her fingers and the wedding set decorating her ring finger, spreading them against her own, comparing their lengths. Her hand dwarfed Anastasia’s. She ran her fingertip over the thin veins that roped the back of her hand, the faint blue of them showing through the type of skin that had once grace the bodies of only the highest born women in the world. Anastasia’s fingers were thin and delicate looking, hers longer and slightly calloused from more than two thousand years of combat, both of their nails shapely and painted the same colour of shimmery wine red at Anastasia’s request. She carefully kissed each one of her fingers and then cupped her hand in hers, holding it over her beating heart. It was an intimate act. A caring act.

When she looked up her gaze caught hers.

Anastasia was watching her, her crystal eyes half-lidded, her soft lips parted.

“The fireworks won’t start for fifteen more minutes,” she murmured. “Close your eyes, my darling. Rest.”

“Hold me?,” Anastasia smiled, sleepily. Her accent now so thick it sounded slow and languid and syrupy, as if it were warm honey.

“Forever,” she whispered in her ear.

Anastasia lay there, her eyes closed, her coppery hair spread on the pillows and over Kamilah’s chest, their legs all tangled up beneath their favourite blanket that Serafine had given them as a wedding present.

She must've truly exhausted her for her to have fallen asleep so swiftly, she thought as she gently stroked the wispy baby hairs framing her temples. 

The candlelight and twinkling rainbow fairy lights sent shadows spilling from the tips of her eyelashes, made her dewy brow and rosy cheeks glow, and left the valley between her breasts in darkness, save for the little beads of sweat and saliva still glistening there. She was so lovely.

In her whole life, Kamilah had never held anyone with such gentleness. She’d never really cradled anyone else but her into her arms like this. Even after so many years it still shook her to realise that this woman who was so strong and powerful, what a small thing she was! She might have the reputation of a living god, but her Annie’s body was as light as a bird's. She could feel the delicate bones of her shoulder, the slender span of her waist, as her hands stroked over the expanse of creamy white skin marked by tender bruises and the half moon imprints of her nails.

She smiled softly as she studied her sleeping form. It felt... very nice to have her lying so trustingly against her. Especially as she had once been terrified to fall asleep in this very castle in the arms of her abuser, never sure what he might decide to do to her when she eventually drifted off. Especially as the first night of the Dark Solstice had once been a very lonely affair in which, despite being surrounded by people and adoring the holiday, she had felt a million miles away from the world.

It was a different time now and the past was very far away. She was in the arms of the woman with whom she had come to bed willingly, and on this night she had used her mouth on her, until no part of her skin had gone untouched, and she had made her come, over and over again until neither of them could stand any more, and now she was letting her sleep soundly in her arms until she was well rested and then she had plans to start all over again when they eventually made their way back to their suite of state rooms. 

She was with the woman who would willingly kiss her wounds, who would dry her tears, who could make love to her in ways that she truly hadn’t realised had even been invented before finding her. She was with the woman who would make love to her in fields of flowers and in the garden under crystal clear starry skies, who made her forget about death or pain or sorrow. Who had shown her things she hadn’t even dreamed of, and when they were together there would be no one in their world but the two of them, between their legs, in their mouths... everywhere.

If she listened intently she could hear her wife’s breaths and the steady thumping of her heart. The very heart mortal medical doctors had been convinced was weak due to the very distinctive murmur it had, that had actually turned out stronger than anyone had ever imagined. The whooshing sound that punctuated each beat hadn’t faded upon her Turning and now served as nothing more than Kamilah’s own personal lullaby. That thumping and whooshing had worried her terribly with every uneven beat when Anastasia was mortal... and now it was the thing which soothed her and lulled her into a state of safety.

After a bit Kamilah breathed with her, nuzzling against the crown of her head.

In and out.

In... and then out.

She would ask nothing else from life if she would be allowed to protect and cherish her like this for as long as she drew breath. This alone was like a thousand Dark Solstices arriving at once, for she had enlarged her life by giving her the gift of her love, rather than merely gifting her life with frivolous trinkets alone.

Even if they were doing nothing more than eating Chinese food with their Muslim and Jewish friends — in keeping with the mortal holiday traditions they had brought to the solstice celebrations — being together on the longest nights of the year, as the cold set into the ground and made it crunch, the warmth Kamilah felt inside when she was in her presence was infectious and transcendent.

“My love,” she murmured, gently jostling Anastasia awake as she began hearing the voices of vampires gathering in the snowy gardens far below their tower. “The fireworks will be starting in a moment.”

“We should get one of these skylights for the penthouse,” Anastasia mumbled, still half asleep, her eyes drifting upwards towards the sparkling sky through the glass roof overhead.

“The light pollution wouldn’t make for much of a view, unfortunately.” She pulled the blanket further around her and kissed her hairline. “Unless you periodically used your abilities to disrupt the power grid.”

“Be gay and do crime, you mean?” She pretended to be scandalised by the very insinuation that she’d dare dream of doing something illegal, which only made them both start laughing. “I would be 100% okay with that if it meant we could see some stars on a regular basis, especially when it’s too cold to be in the garden. Saving the planet one power outage at a time.”

“Then I’ll buy you a thousand skylights,” she whispered at her ear. “If stars are what your heart desires, I will see to it stars are what you get.”

Anastasia said nothing but pressed her lips against her cheek, and then Kamilah realised she’d somehow set her softly ablaze. Emotion burned from her, and her sapphire eyes... she would never forget those eyes in this moment as the multicoloured fireworks began sparkling overhead.

“I love you so much I can hardly tell my own heart from yours anymore,” Anastasia said quietly, holding her so tightly, “and I've never said that to anyone else in my life as it's never until you been true.”

“I love you, too." Such grave, inadequate words for what it was she felt... but how did one who hadn’t felt the sun on her skin in more than two thousand years describe the way it felt to suddenly have it shining from within her heart? If there were any words in any language that could do the feeling justice, she didn’t know of them.

But this wasn’t about mere words.

It was about distant stars, and glowing lights, and the seemingly small things that turned out to be really very big things.

They each sighed happily as the fireworks display wore on. Brilliant hues of red and green, and silver and gold, and all the traditional colours of the Dark Solstice exploded high above them. Clan brand symbols, pretty mandalas, stars, flowers, all made out of fireworks decorated the night sky. The almost entirely full moon reflected the pristine whiteness of the snow blowing into shadowy silvery mounds beneath the stars and the fireworks. It spread out before them, all pure and flowing and ripples of sterling silver that made the frozen lakes etched with skate marks look like they were made of diamond crystals. 

There had always been a gentle peace and welcome solitude on a wintry night in this castle, especially in this tower. A place of good memories and innocent times; a place for new plans, and the excitement of knowing that in a years time they’d be back in this very same spot as they’d been the year before, and the year before that. This was where Kamilah had immersed the fabric of her soul in the torrential nature of Dark Solstice, and in doing so, she had come to finally understand that it was the very thing that could make the world what she had for so long wished it were.


	4. i’m safe in your arms, you're my angel baby.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by; Everyday Is Christmas by Sia.

“Kami, will you zip me up?”

“Of course, my love—“ she began, cutting off the moment she turned around from inspecting her new tuxedo in the mirror.

A flash of iridescence caught her eye. Her first thought was: Morpho Helena. The extraordinary tropical butterfly with wings of shifting colors: blues, lavenders, greens. 

Her wife wearing a slightly iridescent blue velvet floor length gown with a strategically placed thigh slit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The sort of gown that many an empire had crumbled for. The sort of gown that began immediately testing the power of her self control the moment she set eyes on it.

For a long moment she just stood there, staring, speechless. The colour of the velvet may have been blue, but by the light bouncing off of the legion of overhead diamonds hanging from the chandelier, she saw purples and even pinks shimmering in its weave. A bracelet of pale stones winked around one wrist, a circlet of jewels banded her neck and drew just the right amount of attention to her cleavage. The chandelier struck little beams from that, too.

Beautiful. She’d once thought she’d understood what the word meant. She now believed it overused. Some word needed to be kept in reserve for the rare, the arresting, the surprising... the magical. Or a new one invented entirely.

“Like what you see?,” Anastasia giggled. “I thought you’d appreciate it the minute I saw it in Saks.”

Kamilah swallowed thickly, though her mouth was suddenly very, very dry. Her wife was altogether so shiny that this must’ve been some sort of witchcraft... and it was only made worse when she tipped her face up into the light. She was wearing very little makeup, as she simply didn’t need it, but her beauty was unlike anything Kamilah had ever seen.

Everything stopped as the blue of her eyes caught in the warm light, shining like pools of sapphire. The beat of her ancient heart, the pump of her lungs, the march of time. Gaius had once changed her opinion of blue eyes, but looking at Anastasia she wondered how had she ever thought blue eyes placid as a lake? She knew now there was untold power in any water: to buoy, to drown, to toss, to carry one to the safety of shore.

Seconds later, thankfully, it all resumed. Much more violently than previously.

And then absurd notions roman-candled in her mind.

“You’re the most radiant woman I’ve ever seen,” she breathed, her knees shaking slightly as she moved behind her to tend to the zipper that travelled the length of her spine.

“You’re pretty spectacular yourself,” Anastasia giggled musically, pulling her long hair over her left shoulder.

She smiled softly and pulled the tab of metal up much more slowly than she actually had to, allowing her fingers to brush against the pale expanse of flesh in front of her. Despite the fact that only hours before she’d been making love to her, her palms ached to explore her body once again, to cradle her face close to her — it was a kitten’s face, slender and fair at the brow, stubborn at the chin. She had kitten’s eyes, too: large and mischievous and surely they weren’t actually the azure of calm southern seas? Surely she, Kamilah Sayeed, hadn’t entertained such a florid thought? Her eyebrows were enviable: thick, perfectly arched, slightly darker than her hair. Her hair was the colour of fire, something warm to balance to ice of her eyes, skin, and dress, but as she studied her it was as though she’d never learned the word “red”... as that seemed much to simple to describe it.

Burnished. Silk. Copper. Azure. Delicate. Angel. Looking at her, suddenly these were the only words she knew.

“You have no business looking like that when we’ll be spending the next few hours surrounded by other people,” she smirked, her hands slowly tracing up and down her sides and then slinking around her waist to rest on her lower abdomen. In the mirror’s reflection she watched with rapt fascination as Anastasia bit down on her bottom lip, reaching back to caress her face.

“Perhaps we can discuss it further during the dancing portion of the evening,” the Bloodkeeper giggled, sighing happily as Kamilah gently rocked her from side to side in her arms.

“You'll enjoy waltzing with me later this evening, my love.” She smirked at her and playfully nipped at the shell of her ear. “I’m told I dance very well, despite the height.”

"Your modesty is as appealing as your sensitivity,” Anastasia laughed. She loved to dance with her, despite the seven inch height difference. She turned in her hold and attacked her throat with gentle kisses and Kamilah was so startled by the sudden move that she squeaked. “I will be speaking to your third button throughout the dances and you will need to look a down or I will need to look up. I wouldn’t like you to end the evening with an aching neck."

She laughed breathily. Anastasia was laving her with her tongue, openmouthed, and she moaned, arching, wondering wildly. This seemed so base, so animal. Not at all like anything she had thought she knew before.

“My third button is so often a wallflower during balls I doubt it will mind your conversation much.”

Anastasia giggled and Kamilah blinked, a smile tugging at her lips. This was so delightfully... silly... she forgot herself absolutely for a moment. She noticed when Anastasia stole a glance at her third button. It was nacre, of course, as were the rest of them, and looked like an expensive and luminous tiny moon brought down from the sky specifically to button up a custom made tuxedo by Donatella Versace. A row of snobs, those buttons, all of them.

As they left their room Kamilah held her on her right arm, keeping her close enough that she’d be able to protect her should anything arise, and close enough that there was absolutely no doubts that they were bound together in a way nobody would ever be able to come between. They were both extraordinarily beautiful women, but Kamilah was well aware of how many people would jump at the chance to take her place at Anastasia’s side.

Even two mortal footmen in eighteenth century uniforms staggering the opposite way down the hall gave her a second glance despite the fact they were bearing between them a festive flower arrangement so brilliant it was nearly sentient. A profusion of holly and roses, the heads of which were nearly as pulsatingly crimson and large as actual hearts sprung from a luxurious froth of ferny greenery and minuscule lacy white flowers. It was magnificently intimidating and almost indecently sensual. The whole thing was the height of a three-year-old child and the solid marble vase with gold leaf trim was extremely heavy, yet that didn’t stop their jaws from dropping.

Even when she’d been mortal, her wife had always been awash in a sea of compliments. Almost everyone who was attracted to women that Anastasia met tended voice their admiration below their breath when they thought she couldn’t hear them, their desire to make love to her. And those were only the ones who were stupid enough to voice such thoughts. All about her were likely people who could not speak their admiration, who must remain mute from lack of social standing or fear of offending her... or perhaps, the common sense to know that Kamilah would stab them if they dared. Only their thoughts lit the air about her, following her like a trail of perfume, heady but invisible — but no one ever stopped understood what her legend had cost her, for they looked at her but the did not see.

She certainly couldn’t fault people’s attraction to her. The wrong woman could have brought the world crashing down, after all. What Anastasia had done was remarkable. A different woman might have collapsed under the weight of all this responsibility, but Anastasia took it all in her stride and somehow remained completely unaffected. It was near impossible not to find a great deal to admire in her. However, there were many people who thought her goodness was a thing of surface, and forgot that it was really of the soul. The type of good in her was something she was, not merely something she did.

“What the hell happened to you?,” she blurted out artlessly the moment they saw Adrian slumped against a medieval suit of armour in the ballroom with a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. “You returned from fighting on the frontlines in both world wars in better shape— who do I need to stab?”

“I didn’t do it,” Lily yelped. “I fucking swear on my life. I had nothing to do with this shit.”

She and Anastasia shared a withering glance and turned to look at Lily. “What did you do, you dumbass?,” the Bloodkeeper laughed.

“Shall we just say, there was a reason the orgy was held in the dungeons,” Serafine laughed, kissing them both fondly on both cheeks. “He’s now suffering for his libido thanks to our dear Lily.”

“Lily did that?,” she huffed in amusement. Someone who thought that death was the scariest thing about life clearly had not met her protégé. “Our Lily?”

“The one and only,” Adrian nodded. 

“Technically speaking, you were much drunker than me,” Lily shrugged. “It was your fault.”

Kamilah sighed. “This imbecile is five foot five and lives on a diet of energy drinks, boxed mac and cheese, and alcohol. What the hell could she possibly do to you?”

“Hey,” Lily pouted, “my milkshake brings all the vampires to the yard.”

There was a short stunned silence. Anastasia then started laughing and everyone else shared clueless glances. It amazed her, that her protégé could own so few redeemable qualities and still be so likeable. She was the only person Kamilah knew who was so unapologetic in the fact she intended to spend the remainder of her immortal life whoring, drinking, wagering, and being as outrageous as she could manage — as any woman for the modern age ought to be.

“I offer a word of warning, sister. If she ever tells you she is perfectly capable of suspending you from iron bars with chains, don’t listen. You’ll end up with a herniated disk so bad that not even a feeding will cure the pain immediately.”

“Unlike you, I would never be so foolish as to trust a known bottom who frequently refers to herself a pillow princess to chain me up anywhere.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “So besides this stupidly self induced injury, dare I ask how last night went?”

“It was lit,” Lily nodded, chugging a chilled alcopop.

“The last time I was held captive in a dungeon like that was during the revolution. It was quite nostalgic,” Serafine sighed, dreamily, lost in the memories of her frequent arrests for causing mayhem during the French revolutionary period. She had enjoyed it so much that she had simply allowed the mortals to catch her, only to then escape from their prisons like it was all some sort of game. For her, the war had been intense boredom interspersed with violence, terror, and satisfying her punishment kink — because she’d literally had nothing better to do with her time. “The whole thing was rather splendid. Though I’m certain the few mortals in attendance will require tetanus shots this evening after playing around with so many instruments of torture.”

“You did not play with instruments that likely haven’t been properly sterilised in centuries.” She cringed. “That is disgusting. Even by my standards that is wretched.”

“There is something to be said about playing around with authentic iron handcuffs in a dungeon,” Serafine shrugged. “It is an aphrodisiac. You ought to try it with Anastasia.”

Anastasia laughed. “I think playing with rusty restraints that were once used to actually torture people might be a hard limit of mine.”

She scoffed and rested a protective hand in the small of her wife’s back. “I would never dream of doing anything of the sort when the risk of her actually getting injured would be so high— just look at Adrian, he’s acting decrepit after one night down there. I’d never forgive myself had I to reduce my Annie to such a state.”

“Good lord, this cannot be healthy,” Adrian murmured to himself as he rubbed at his lower back. “I feel like a mortal. Good grief. I have fought in battles less torturous.” He sighed. “This will be the end of me.”

They all immediately spent a long moment in bemused silence as they watched him complaining like a mortal child with a scraped knee. He was known to be far too dramatic so she was never quite sure exactly what his level of pain truly was. She’d seen the fool excuse himself to lay down after a paper cut on more than one occasion, and every winter he’d try to convince them male vampires were susceptible to man flu.

He thought himself so clever. And yet he was always surprised to find himself entrapped or made fool of. It was infuriating. Bloody infuriating.

“Must I have to fix everything?,” she growled after a long moment, barely resisting the urge to start lecturing him for his foolishness. He was certainly old enough to have known better. “Hold still.”

“Kamilah,” he gulped, his face turning grey. “You’re not a chiropractor—“

“Did I stutter?,” she interjected. “Hold still or I will stab you. I do not wish to listen to you complaining for the next few hours. It will sour my mood considerably.”

“Kami, be nice,” Anastasia scolded lightly. She regarded her thoughtfully, and something about that look traveled up her spine like a trailed finger.

She sighed. She was not a woman to be swayed by gentleness, beauty, or sweet words alone. She would bend — assuming she was even capable of bending — only for reasons of her very own. “Hold still or I will stab you, nicely.” She glanced at Anastasia. “Better?”

“I— You— I’ll allow it.” Anastasia laughed quietly and she was rewarded with a smile, one of delightful, slow, crooked affairs, because Kamilah just couldn't help herself. And the Bloodkeeper, for a moment, could not have formed any more words for admiring it. And with awe, everyone saw Kamilah lose her battle with that smile.

It fought first with one corner of her mouth, then the other, and then it broke all over her like a sunrise. The very shape of her face changed when she smiled like this. Or rather, she came into focus at last in those rare moments; like she'd simply been awaiting illumination from within all this time.

There were her very faint dimples, and a strong chin, and her elegant cheekbones. Her face was sweetly drawn, very alive. She was incandescent with the wicked amusement that her wife seemed to bring her, even when she wasn’t doing anything in particular.

In that moment she was an entirely different woman.

And everyone else still simply stared, stunned, whenever they saw her like this.

“Sister, I don’t think this is a good—“ He cut himself off with a pained choking sound when she grabbed him by the shoulders far too quickly for him to shove her off and forcefully cracked his spine back into the correct position with one swift movement. Loudly. Very, very loudly. It was easy enough that a mortal could’ve done it... but you certainly wouldn’t catch her admitting that.

“You’ve broken his back!,” Serafine shrieked, far too over dramatically for her to bear. “He’s going to be paralysed for the next few hours!”

“I haven’t broken his back, you old fool. Reel it in,” she fired back, lightly slapping the back of her head before turning back to a bewildered looking Adrian. “Better?”

“Holy shit,” Lily breathed. “This is like when Aang’s chakras became unblocked and homeboy was able to reach the Avatar State again.”

He stood up straight and stared at her in shock for a few seconds, blinking at her slowly as he caught his breath. His eyes flared in wary surprise. He froze. And his smile, when it came, was slow, and crooked. “Do I even want to know why you know how to do that?”

“Any real domme knows how to correct her mistakes, should they occur — something you ought to learn before you allow yourself to be strung up next time,” she muttered, patting him condescendingly on the shoulder before turning to glare at Lily. “You will research how to restrain people before you wind up killing someone. Are we clear?”

“Are you telling me to watch porn?,” Lily snorted. “You ain’t a regular mom, you’re a cool mom.”

“Call me your mother one more time and I will sedate you.” 

Lily shrugged. “Alright. You’re technically old enough to be my mom’s mom’s mom’s mom’s mom’s mom’s mom’s mom’s mom’s—“

“Silence.” She sighed. “I am trying to tell you that you’re an imbecile and I have absolutely no desire to help you dispose of any more bodies. I will not be getting you out of trouble when you inevitably hang someone—“

“So you’re telling me to watch porn,” nodded Lily. “I know what’s up. I’m totally down to spend the next few days on PornHub so that I’m prepared for my New Year’s orgy. You don’t gotta ask me twice— damn, the FBI agent monitoring my internet activity is in for a treat.”

Everyone started laughing and she rolled her eyes, turning back to a very relieved looking Adrian. She wouldn’t properly lecture him for his reckless endangerment of himself until much later, as she knew that the lengths he’d go to in order to feel good at this time of year were a direct representation of how much he missed his family. Despite the fact he smiled and laughed and enjoyed the Dark Solstice, she felt the pain of his loss inside her like a savage hook. She wanted to reach into him and take it out, as though it were shrapnel. But the pain was very old to him as he’d grieved Eleanor and Charles for much longer than he’d actually had them, and somehow that pain had become a part of him. He could bear it and speak of it. It had shaped him; he had accommodated it. He had loved and he had lost and it had made him who he was.

He offered her a sip out of his bottle of whiskey as a thank you. “I added vodka and white wine to it to act as a fast pain reliever.”

“That is a crime against alcohol,” she cringed, sniffing the bottle. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Just try it,” he snorted. “I feel like I’m flying.”

She took a small sip and almost vomited immediately as she handed it back to him. This was the single most vile thing she’d ever had in her mouth... and she’d spent two thousand years at Gaius Augustine’s side. And Serafine couldn’t contain her laughter as she coughed and spluttered, her throat burning all the way down to her stomach with just one single sip.

“It’s not that terrible,” Adrian pouted. “I’m actually rather proud of the concoction. Lily liked it.”

“Shits strong as fuck,” Lily nodded.

“I don’t think Lily has rights when it comes to alcohol,” Serafine huffed in amusement. “She’s almost murdered us all with her cocktails on more than one occasion.”

“Y’all are just lightweights,” pouted Lily. 

“You’re just a danger to society,” she quipped, coughing slightly as her mouth continued to burn. “This may as well be poisonous, Adrian. You could kill a mortal with this by inducing an immediate case of liver failure.”

“Nothing says Dark Solstice better than familicide, anaphylactic shock, and coming up with new methods of murder,” Anastasia deadpanned.

This happiness she felt as the banquet and ball began was still an odd thing. Happy? Most of the time, for most of her life, happiness had always been a very fleeting, surface level thing. It had never seemed to rest upon her as a permanent state. True, she had known very shallow moments of joy just as most other people did but she’d never had the simple sort of deep satisfaction spending time with loved ones could bring. 

Since meeting Anastasia she had learned from her to find happiness in ways that would pass most people by, that had passed her by before she’d been encouraged to stop and breathe. She felt the winter cold disappear at that very moment and through the windows saw the snow dusted pine trees and the frozen water and heard how almost every sound was muffled into the thick blanket of snow dusting the ground. She felt the novelty of having pleasant company when, for the centuries she’d been celebrating the Dark Solstice here, she had usually stood very far removed from the festivities to avoid triggering Gaius’ anger. He had been, of course, aware of her every moment of the evenings they’d spent there. He’d known exactly with whom she had danced. Something about his laughter had made her feel more alone than if she were standing on a high cliff at the end of the world, shouting her name into the void to hear it echo back at her.

Yet she was now as happy as she’d once been miserable. For if light had a sound, it was the laugh of the woman she loved so dearly. Her laugh was wonderful. It was mischief made musical. It filled her with warmth. She charmed and sparkled and said witty things, but she didn’t know very well she was being charming and sparkling and witty while she was doing it. It was a downright bizarre thing to witness.

“How many daggers do you have on you right now?,” Anastasia chuckled as they danced.

“A pair and a spare, like any sensible individual.” She sighed happily. “I also requested extra large pockets on the inside of my blazer. Annie, I’m carrying twelve different poisons. Twelve!”

“Are we expecting an ambush?”

She huffed. “One can never be too careful. Especially since tomorrow I find out what my mysterious gift is, I wish to live through the dawn.”

“Don’t think I don’t know you turned our room upside down looking for your presents whilst I was in the shower earlier.”

She laughed quietly. All her reckless, whimsical, sensual testing of the world throughout the last two thousand years had been a search for what she knew with her. Passion and peace. Laughter and combat and friendship. God, how she loved her. It was an immensely humbling, enormous, radiant thing.

“I was incredibly quiet,” she protested. “My heart rate was slow. My breathing rhythmic. I even blended with the shadows. How could you possibly have heard me over your music? Especially when you were singing along to every single song!”

Anastasia cupped the back of her head and drew her face down so their faces were inches apart, and she traced her lips with one finger, lightly, lightly, then placed her lips there as if she’d drawn them into being. “You’re very predictable, babe.”

She pouted as petulantly as she could manage. “I’m waving my white flag now, I have absolutely no clue where you’ve hidden them. Just tell me you’re using your abilities to make them invisible in my eyes to make me feel better about the fact I’ve failed to find them once again.”

The Bloodkeeper let out an indignant puff of air, smirking at her. “They’re at the North Pole, obviously.”

“Ah, so Santa merely hasn’t delivered them yet is what you’re saying?,” she smirked. “That sounds perfectly sensible.”

Anastasia hummed as she loosened the hand in her hair and cradled her face, tenderly, as though she was made of porcelain. Her smile eased, softened, and her mouth surrendered to properly exploring the wonders of hers. Inconceivable that her blossom lips should be so soft, and yet so demanding, and yes, she had begun to demand.

Kisses like this would be her undoing, she thought to herself. She was helplessly and hopelessly addicted. They were achingly lovely they made her restless.

“It is sensible,” Anastasia whispered against her mouth. “And it means you have to be very good to get them.”

She nipped at her bottom lip in warning and echoed. “I have to be good?”

“Mhm.” She batted her eyelashes like she was the picture of innocence, trailing her nails up the length of her neck. “You have to be very good.”

“You tease,” she smirked. Her heart was walloping away in her throat, and she was certain her wife could feel it, as her fingers lingered against her neck. Nearly everything on her body that could stand erect was erect now, clamoring for her touch. The hair on the back of her neck, her arms. Her nipples. 

And instead of casting her eyes down bashfully as she once would have, or fluttering her lashes in coy confusion or responding with a mumbled response... she locked her eyes with hers and smiled. “I don’t know how me telling you that Santa only delivers gifts to good girls is being a tease. It’s common knowledge.”

“Uh-huh.” She bit down on her bottom lip, quietly loving that she spoke to her the way no one else had ever spoken to her, that she played with her like this, which meant she saw her in a way no one else saw her. That when she murmured to her nonsense, it was the language of love. “Have I ever mentioned that you are utterly maddening? Far too much for your own good, at times.”

“So you’re admitting you’ve gone mad,” Anastasia teased. “What's driven you to this nonsense, darling?"

"You have," she breathed. She lowered her head toward her, so she could feel her soft breaths warm against her skin, their mouths only inches apart. So close they brushed together with each and every word. “Kiss me.”

Anastasia drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. She paused for an instant when their lips were barely touching, then pushed her mouth delicately against hers. And Kamilah held her there, loathing to relinquish the feel of her even for the moment it took to breathe.

And for a long moment she simply held her and she held onto her in the middle of the dance floor.

It might have been the most perfect moment of her life so far.


	5. i love you baby.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by; Fairytale of New York (piano version) by Kevin Duncan.

When Kamilah was in the city and either had work to go to from the afternoons until the evenings from Monday to Friday, she’d awaken as the morning birds heralded the rising sun, and when she could be entirely nocturnal and disconnected from mortal societal norms on the weekends or at the Dark Solstice, she’d awaken as the moon began to peek over the horizon. Always in a soft bed with a softer, cuddly woman against her side. Since meeting her she had found it much harder to brush away the tendrils of sleep than she once had, even on a night as exciting as this one was set to be.

When Kamilah finally stirred after a dreamless alcohol induced sleep, the moon was already shining through the thin white curtains that had been hastily drawn across the bedroom windows. Through the slight gap in one of them she could see that snow was falling, so much like falling stars. Their bedroom was lit only by the roaring fire in the ornate fireplace opposite the bed, casting everything in a brilliant orange glow. She blinked and realised a slender arm was draped over her stomach, holding her in place. She smiled softly and carefully levered herself up ever so slightly to peer at her sleeping bedmate.

Her wife was curled against her side, and her own arms and legs were spread wide and taking up most of the bed. A moonbeam struck her messy hair, making a thousand shades of copper and gold glint in the ginger. Her soft lips were slightly parted and on each exhalation was the faintest little huffing sound.

She smiled to herself as she studied her sleeping form and turned on her bedside lamp, she was lying in bed with the woman she loved. She closed her dark eyes for a moment, simply relishing in her presence. More than anything in this world, she wanted this woman to be happy. She’d give her anything, take her anywhere and everywhere she wished to go, do anything to make her happy. 

“What?,” Anastasia mumbled drowsily as Kamilah gently kissed the bridge of her nose. 

The ancient vampire would have liked to linger longer in bed, just the two of them in their own little world. To slowly kiss her awake and make love to her again, but it was only a matter of time before an overly excited Lily descended on their room to fetch them so she could open her Dark Solstice gifts. Every single year the fool burst into their bedroom belting out songs from the Sound Of Music — very badly — because her grandmother used to watch it every December 25th for some reason. Climb every mountain. Ford Every stream. Follow every rainbow, till you find your dream. It was all rather ridiculous and she’d have thrown her headfirst into the nearest stream if given half a chance to do so.

The Bloodkeeper’s brow wrinkled ferociously and she cracked her eyelids to mutter, “Is it?” 

“It’s time to wake up, my little firefly,” she breathed, smoothing back the wild ginger mane that seemed to take on a whole life of its own at this hour.

Anastasia mumbled something unintelligible in Russian and burrowed into her warmth. Her expression began to soften as she blinked the sleep away from her eyes, smiling contentedly at her. As far back as Kamilah could remember, whenever she looked at her, her face would light up as if someone had lit a candle inside her — even at ungodly hours such as this one.

“There are two of your gifts from me that I think you should open here, rather than with everyone else,” Anastasia yawned as she traced mindless little patterns across her chest with her fingertip. “The rest are under the tree.”

She hummed excitedly. “I’m salivating.”

Anastasia huffed in amusement and waved her hand towards the closet door, which opened seemingly of its own accord. Two presents wrapped up in golden paper with ornate glittery decals of silhouetted reindeers all over it them then materialised on the top shelf, as if they’d been there all along.

“So you were manipulating my mind so I couldn’t see them!,” she shrieked, excitedly. “I knew it!”

“It’s the only way to keep you from spoiling your own surprises, dork,” Anastasia laughed, beckoning the presents across the room with a slow flex of her fingers. “You can’t help yourself.”

“That is a very valid point,” she nodded, not even irritated in the slightest. “I, very much indeed, cannot help myself.”

They both sat up against the headboard as the gifts landed on Anastasia’s lap, and she handed her the smaller one first. 

“This is the one I had to use my abilities to find,” she explained as Kamilah tore into the paper. “I initially thought it would be in Alexandria, but I eventually found it in Rome. It had been dug up during an excavation of an ancient villa that apparently belonged to some general. They were going to put it in The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities but... yeah, I wasn’t going to let that happen. It should be yours.”

“You found it in Rome?,” she echoed, her fingertips brushing over the lid of the black velvet box that had been wrapped up.

“He lost it in Rome,” Anastasia nodded.

Her breath hitched in the back of her throat before she even opened the box. She knew what it was immediately with that information... but there was no way— was there? There was absolutely no way that after all this time that this one item could be hers... was there?

Her hands shook as she opened the jewellery box to reveal Lysimachus’ favourite necklace. The necklace that was almost identical to the one she wore practically on an daily basis, save for the sparkling emerald centrepiece that was set in gold and surrounded by sapphires in place of the pink Star Ruby gemstone that was on hers. Green had been his favourite colour, after all. It had reminded him of the banks of The Nile.

“Oh, Annie,” she whispered. “My Annie...”

“He’d want you to have it, I think.”

Lysimachus had commissioned the royal jeweller to create them matching accessories that would rival their cousin’s vast collection of jewels, and these necklaces were what he had been given. Her brother had worn this trinket every single day between the ages of sixteen and twenty-three — without a care that it was considered effeminate even by ancient standards — until he’d lost it after taking it off to swim on a state visit to Rome on Cleopatra’s behalf.

He'd been her protector, unswerving, unflinching, always there; from a man like him, the fact he’d had these necklaces designed for them... such actions were tantamount to a declaration of the strength of their bond from the rooftops. He had been showing her that he considered her his equal in every way. That they were a team. That no matter what, they’d always be bound.

The last time Kamilah had set eyes on it she had been stood in the main courtyard of Antirhodos saying goodbye to him before his three month trip abroad. The necklace had been strung proudly around his neck on top of his golden armour, as her own had been the centrepiece of the outfit she’d worn that day. They’d promised one another to wear them every moment they were apart, so that they’d always be connected — so she’d been rather irritated when he’d returned to Egypt to admit he’d misplaced his. He’d had it replaced, of course, with one that’d had an amethyst in place of the emerald but he’d been wearing that when he’d rode into the battle that had taken him from her... and as she’d never been given any remains, it was lost forever.

“Annie,” she breathed in disbelief, her fingertips gliding over the polished gemstones and gold. “I— How did you know about this?”

“You told me he liked jewellery and that you guys shared whatever you had... and that you liked to argue about who wore each piece better,” Anastasia smiled, gently wiping at her eyes on her behalf. She hadn’t even realised how much she was crying. “So I started looking back in the memories you’ve shared with me to see what pieces he wore most often, and I noticed he wore this a lot. He had one with a purple stone too but I remember you saying he loved green, so I thought that this one would probably be more meaningful because he liked it so much. It definitely wasn’t easy to find but—“

She cut her off with a kiss, her tears flowing freely down both of her cheeks. Holding her gaze, all but lost in the shimmery blue of her eyes, she raised her hand to her lips, and gently kissed each one of her fingers. “My love... thank you. There are no words— I— Just— Thank you so much. Thank you.”

“Turn it over,” Anastasia whispered. “The day before he lost it, he carved his name into the back of the golden disk on the right. I saw him do it through the memories of a vampire who delivered wine to the villa he was staying at. It’s still there.”

Her hands trembled as she turned the artefact over in her hand to reveal that her darling Lysi had indeed scratched his name into the gold. A watery laugh escaped from the back of her throat as she traced the hieroglyphs scrawled in his very distinctive sloppy hand that she used to tease him relentlessly about. She hadn’t seen anything written in his hand for... well... it had been a very, very long time.

She didn’t need gifts to know that she was loved. Anastasia showed her in a thousand little ways each and every day that she loved her dearly. But nobody had ever made her feel more precious than she did when she gave her things that were so sentimental and only went to show how deeply she’d come to know her. 

Another teary laugh escaped her and she covered her eyes with her hand at the rush of feelings, too many to sort, all of them bigger than she was, all of them wonderful.

Anastasia gently but firmly lifted her hand away from her face. She wanted to see her, apparently. She kept her eyes closed for a moment. Though through the cloud she floated upon she felt her lips, soft, so soft, so achingly tender, brushing over her eyelids, her cheeks, her forehead, her throat, her lips. So soothing. A tender inventory. She murmured things in Kazakh that she didn’t yet understand that could only have been sweet endearments.

“He was left handed, like you,” she whispered. “But he never tried to neaten his writing. It caused quite a few mix ups when he was away at war and his correspondence frequently became misconstrued. It was so bad he had to have his own scribe and tried to convince me to write for him at one time.”

Anastasia caressed her cheek and smiled at her softly. “I thought it said Lizzo instead of Lysi when I first read it and I was extremely confused. Lily then started the conspiracy that he had psychic abilities and predicted Lizzo’s whole music career.”

She snorted, her smile widening as Anastasia fastened it around her neck for her. “He would only write worse when someone pointed out he wrote like a child. It was quite infuriating.”

They shared a soft laugh and Anastasia handed her the other gift. “I made this one for you.”

“You did?,” she prodded as she tore into the wrapping paper to reveal a leather bound book with her name embossed in gold letters on the cover.

“I noticed how much you enjoy looking back at my childhood pictures,” she rested her hand on hers to stop her before she could open the book, “and started thinking about how you don’t have any photos of your childhood and adolescence. So I... I looked back at your memories and picked out some moments— I—,” she cleared her throat nervously. “I painted them for you.”

Tears blurred her eyes the moment she opened the book to see a shockingly photorealistic painting of her mother and father staring back at her. They were stood side-by-side on her father’s favourite golden chariot, with the details so intense that even the pattern of gold leafing that decorated the spokes of its wheels was exact... all the way down to a very faint scrape mark from when she and Lysimachus had unwittingly crashed it into a wall as five year old children. Even the fact that her father’s right eye had been a slightly lighter shade of brown than his left had been picked up upon and represented.

It was a painted picture that Kamilah looked at and actually forgot that it was made of paint. It was so, so real. Almost like they were standing right in front of her once again, looking back at her the way they once had when she’d been young and innocent, only now they were finally proudly of the woman she’d become. Finally telling her that she’d brought honour to their family, the likes of which Cleopatra could only ever have dreamed of.

“Hi, mama,” she whispered as her fingertips touched her mother’s face. The physical resemblance between them was undeniable, though her mother had been a far more temperate woman than she had ever been and it showed in her gentle smile. Her patience shone in her light golden brown eyes that not even her dramatic cosmetics could harden. Her love for her father showed in the way she touched his arm — it was a touch Kamilah now recognised, as it was how she touched Anastasia.

“She looks like you,” Anastasia breathed, “except for the eyes. You have—“

“My father’s eyes,” she smiled. “The darker one, at least.”

She traced the outline of her mother’s form, remembering how it had felt to be enveloped in her embrace whenever she was restless or frightened. It bothered her still that she had died long before she’d ever really gotten to know her as a woman, as opposed to just being her mother. Everyone was a rose, after all, but even more complex than a mere flower. Everyone was made up of infinitely layered petals. And everyone had something indescribably precious at the heart of their being that she wished she had gotten to know in her mother. No one was shallow. Not really.

How she missed her. 

How she missed them both.

Closing her eyes, she saw every smile that her mother had ever directed her way and knew a pang of regret. She would have liked her to have held her in her arms one last time before she died. Even all these thousands of years later, there was nothing she would not do for one last moment in her mother’s arms.

“I asked her once what sort of person I could love for a lifetime,” she said, dabbing at her eyes.

Her delicate brows drew together. “What did she say?”

Kamilah was silent for a while, stroking her mother’s face on the paper. Anastasia didn’t push her to answer right away, guessing that she was thinking about how best to word her answer. 

"A kind person," she said. "I was around nine when she told me that when we are young and foolish we do not realise how essential a component of love kindness is — but I didn’t realise until the grand old age of 2,063 that it is perhaps the most important quality. And an honourable person, she said to me, like my father was in her eyes. Always doing the right thing no matter what."

Anastasia squeezed her hand. 

"And a strong person," she continued. "Strong enough to be vulnerable, to take risks, to be honest even when honesty might expose them to ridicule or rejection. And someone who would put themselves at the centre of my world even before knowing that I would be willing to do the same for them in return. A person foolish and brave enough to tell me that they love me even when I have hidden all signs that I love them more than the very air I breathe in return."

"Kami,” Anastasia breathed as Kamilah kissed her lips.

"She would have to be small and Kazakhstani and ginger and button nosed," she said in a tone of complete seriousness. "And smiling much of the time, pretending she is a foot taller than she actually is and believing herself impervious to the effects of every alcoholic beverage. And she’d have to sing to me when I can’t sleep occasionally to light up my heart and my life."

Anastasia giggled.

"She would have to be you," she said. "No one else would do. Which is just as well, considering the fact that I am married to you.” She kissed her lips again. “She would’ve loved you dearly.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” she rasped in a voice rift with emotion. “She was one of the few people who were well aware of my sexuality from a young age and she accepted me. If she could’ve known you— If she could’ve known who I’d become with you— Well... she... she’d have loved you as one of her own.”

On the next page there was an image of her, Lysimachus, and their cousins Arsinoë and Ptolemy sat side by side on the end of one of the royal barges, their bare feet skimming the surface of the The Nile as they sailed from Memphis back to Alexandria. They couldn’t have been more than seven years old, if her missing teeth and permanently scraped knees were anything to go by. Lysimachus was clutching his toy horse close to his chest, Arsinoë was cradling a doll in her arms, and she and Ptolemy were both holding wooden swords they’d decorated themselves with pigments they’d stolen from tomb decorators at the docks.

She couldn’t remember exactly what the four of them had been laughing about, but knew it must’ve been something divine. Arsinoë had been her dearest female friend, once... and pretending not to care about her to save her own life after Cleopatra had ordered her death had been one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do as a mortal. She never forgave her cousin for sanctioning her banishment and murder... even now it was a sin she could neither forgive nor forget.

Her fingers trembled as she gently stroked them over the image of a young Arsinoë sitting at her side, their hands entwined. Their bond had been the closest to the sort of friendship that existed between Anastasia and Lily that Kamilah had ever had. Together they had wasted many an afternoon refusing to be moulded into perfectly marriageable ladies, and they’d driven more than one tutor to give up on them entirely.

“She would’ve liked you,” she whispered, quietly wondering who her cousin might’ve grown up to be had she been successful in overthrowing Cleopatra. Quietly imagining what she would’ve moulded Egypt to become... because she knew damn well she wouldn’t have destroyed it as Cleopatra had done.

“I wish I could’ve met her,” Anastasia replied.

The painting showed perfectly the misty spring rain and how it had softened the outline of the villages on the banks of The Nile and made it even more beautiful. So gentle had been the rain at that time of year that they’d hardly known they were getting wet as went about their lives. The slender threads of rain had vanished into the river with hardly a ripple. Papyrus and Plume Thistles were intermingled with young green leaves, the colours of the budding trees all delicately subdued in the rain.

It wasn’t often that Kamilah found herself genuinely driven speechless. But as she slowly flicked through her new album filled with precious memories, there were no words she knew in any language to do justice to how much this meant. Her wife had painted the spirit and soul of what she saw in each and every moment of her past she’d captured. There was an unlimited power in this book — Anastasia had literally, literally, moved mountains.

“How do you turn a blank piece of paper into this?,” she breathed, her watery eyes focused on a portrait of Lysimachus. It looked to have been a moment not too long before the last time she ever saw him. He was standing proud as a medieval king on the balcony of her room at Antirhodos in his ceremonial suit of armour, his blade at his hip and his favourite cat he’d rescued from the streets when he was a boy, Isis, cradled happily in the crook of his right arm her old age — she had died only two weeks after him, and Kamilah had seen to it that she was properly mummified and laid to rest in her parents tomb.

“Jean Millet once said: Paint only what you see,” Anastasia said softly, resting her head on her shoulder. “Imagination is a burden to a painter. Painters are craftsmen, not storytellers. So I just... paint what I see.” She took a deep breath. “But what Millet didn’t say, didn’t warn us about, was how much you could see. Picking the right moments to capture was the hardest part.”

She knew that a painter was not simply someone who merely looked and who merely saw. Above all, the artist was someone who exposed a personal vision by rendering it visible to all. The painter showed or allowed the seeing of something that without her, without her intervention, would not be seen and would remain forever forgotten. Anastasia had manifested through her work a possibility of seeing that which would otherwise remain latent and hidden in the depths of Kamilah’s mind. Her painting was an art that revealed or unveiled the world from an angle that the world itself did not present to her. Painting created. It did not limit itself to mere imitation or reproduction, the way photographs always did. Any desire to confine painting within the limits of déjà vu would be a gross misunderstanding of the essence of what painting actually was. Painting allowed to be seen that which without it would never be.

“How long did this take you?,” she breathed.

Anastasia shrugged. “A little over three years from start to finish until I was happy with each one. I sketched them out first, then painted them, and then I went back with coloured pencils and some ink to add the finer details that can be difficult to capture with paints.”

“Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before,” she whispered, turning the page to an image of herself sat at her mother’s writing desk that had stood in the corner of her bedroom at Antirhodos. The details of her bedroom were exact, all the way down to the colourful flower arrangements she’d changed on a weekly basis that decorated the desk and the brightly coloured woven rugs that had decorated the floor. “This is... it is the most pure beauty I have ever felt in my life.”

“I’m just glad you like it.” Anastasia exhaled, as if sighing in relief. “I was really nervous to give you this.”

She drew her further into her embrace, lifting her into her strong arms and cradling her against her chest, then pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Why were you nervous, baby?”

“Well I didn’t ask permission before looking through your memories and I worried that you’d feel violated—“

“All I feel right now is peace,” she whispered, resting her brow against hers. “It has been more than two thousand years since I have witnessed my mother smiling at me, since I have witnessed Lysi and that damn cat of his,” she let out a watery laugh, “since I’ve seen the way my father’s eyes sparkled in the sun, since I’ve seen Arsinoë looking at me like I’m her favourite person in the world. It’s been so long that I even began to forget the way my bedroom looked, or the way my horses would tower over me as a child, or how ridiculous I looked when I went through the phase where I’d insist upon wearing my father’s helmet on a daily basis.” She dragged her thumb across her cheek. “This is the most wonderful thing anyone has done for me, ever — Before you came into my life, I believed that the gods I once worshipped had abandoned me. Now I know that they have actually blessed me beyond measure.”

There was nothing worse, was there? Than a past that had never been fully dealt with. Everyone was haunted in one way or another, were they not? If not by spirits, then by their demons and regrets, the ghosts of their own past. One could convince oneself, that it was all safely in the past and forgotten about, but the very fact that we could tell ourselves that it was forgotten proves that it was not — and Kamilah did not want to forget her past, as she once had. Now she wanted more than anything to reconnect to her roots, to remember her family and her home, as she knew damn well she had made a life for herself that they’d be proud of her for.

Her heart must be a strong and resilient thing, and her wife must posses magical healing abilities beyond anyone’s comprehension, she decided. She was surprised to find that she was not in the throes of wrenching heartbreak and pain. Instead, in a strange way, after being given this book of pictures she felt as if she had been reborn. For so long her family had been nothing more than stardust sprinkled across a night sky, forever in her dreams, but out of her reach. Having this book, having so many of the items that had once been precious to them, it was like having a little piece of them here physically once again. With this book, she could at least visit with the people she loved and missed so dearly, even if it was vicariously, even if they didn't exist now beyond her memories.

Anastasia buried her hands in the rich velvet of her hair and drew her into a kiss. “I’ll make you more, if you’d like,” she whispered against her mouth. 

Kamilah smiled, her lips nuzzling her ear. “Not to quote your favourite movie or anything, but, you are my angel... flung from space.”

“Kami...”

“When I was the girl in these paintings, I spent each and every moment of my life searching for glory. I didn't find it. I first came here, to the new world, thinking I'd find glory if I built an empire. Instead I discovered that I didn't even know what glory was, not until you smiled at me for the first time with no fear in your eyes.” She kissed her again. And again. And again. “If I can spend the rest of my immortal life loving you like this, I'll eventually die a wealthy woman, a contented woman.”

Anastasia cupped her hand around hers, pressed a kiss to the heart of her palm, and held her gaze. The moonlight streaming through the window shimmered off the dried tears trailing along her cheeks. She gave her the smile that had always warmed her, that threatened to bring her to her knees. She would kill to keep that smile on her face. 

Kamilah cradled her face between her hands, angled her mouth over hers, and welcomed the bliss she offered. Boldly, she gave her tongue the freedom to roam within her mouth. Anastasia sighed happily and Kamilah moaned, nobody else she’d ever known could make soft sounds like this she'd carry with her until the day she died.

“She’s coming,” Kamilah sighed as a very out of tune rendition of The Sound Of Music began echoing down the hall, interspersed by the loud banging on the doors of Adrian and Serafine’s bedrooms and their sleepy groans that made them sound like they were being murdered. “Give me strength.”

Anastasia giggled and drew the covers up over her face. “She’s so extra.”

The bedroom door burst open without so much as one knock to reveal Lily in a ridiculous holiday themed adult onesie with red glittery reindeer antlers on her head, a whole bottle of Prosecco in her hand which she was using as a microphone. Not that she needed a microphone. That voice was much too loud as it was at this hour — perhaps slipping her some Hemlock next year would be wise, she thought.

“Climb every mountain! Ford Every stream! Follow every rainbow, till you find your dream!,” Lily shrieked at the top of her lungs in a horrendous operatic voice as she pranced around their room. 

“Lily,” she groaned, burying her nose into the crown of Anastasia’s hair as her wife giggled hysterically under the covers. 

“Mom, Dad, it’s the Dark Solstice, Wooooo!,” she cheered, jumping up onto the couch before taking a long gulp out of the bottle in her hand. “Can I get a Woooo?”

“Which one of us is dad?,” Anastasia laughed, poking her head out of her hiding place.

“Never mind that!” She jumped up and down excitedly as an extremely hungover looking Serafine appeared in their doorway in her pyjamas, followed by an equally terrible looking Adrian. Lily, however, was already much too buzzed to notice or care that they were feeling rough. Her words were increasingly slurred, her tongue tripping over some as she cheered, “Can I get Woooo up in here, fam?”

“Wooo,” Serafine groaned as she lightly banged her forehead against the doorframe.

Adrian snorted, soft, low. Weakly. He drew in a slow, shallow breath, lips thin with the pain in his head, but he was determined and echoed the sentiment with a pained, “Wooo.”

“Don’t make me climb into y’all’s bed,” she laughed, glaring at them. “Gimme a woooo.”

“You climb into my marital bed uninvited and I’ll stab you, Dark Solstice be damned,” she smirked, making no real effort to move. “It’s already pushing it that you’re all staring at us laying in bed cuddling in our slips like some sort of perverts.”

“Presents! Presents! Presents!,” chanted Lily, jumping on the couch and taking a sip of alcohol with each word.

She sighed, knowing by the time the sun rose she’d be holding this imbecile’s hair out of the way as she vomited into a toilet bowl.

She was not amused.

Or in any way pleased.

“Lil, I’m comfy,” Anastasia giggled rubbing her cheek against Kamilah’s chest like a sleepy cat. Her body now lay entangled with hers. Her breasts brushed her side; her bare thighs grazed hers. Her heartbeat deepened, yet sped up a little, too. Yet despite the sensual awareness, laying like this they could both feel reassurance along with each other’s warmth stealing through their bodies, relaxing their muscles bit by bit as Anastasia settled her cheek on her chest.

“As am I,” Kamilah yawned. Comfort, safety, warmth. This embrace meant all those things.

“I will fucking air bend y’all outta that bed if I have to,” Lily deadpanned.

“You have no psychic abilities,” Adrian pointed out. “I’ve been studying this Last Airbender cartoon in my spare time. Air bending seems similar to telekinetic psychic abilities.”

“Shut the fuck up, bruh. Cant you see I’m vibin’ here?” 

“What does that mean?,” Serafine prodded. “Vibin’? How exactly does one... vibe?”

“Everything Lily does is a vibe, honestly,” Anastasia laughed.

Lily beamed at her. “And that is why the fuckin’ Avatar herself over there is my favourite.”

“I’m going to need wine immediately if I am to tolerate this level of excitement from her all night without reaching for my Hemlock,” Kamilah whispered to Anastasia.

Anastasia giggled and pressed a kiss to her jaw. “You can get as drunk as you want today and it’s completely socially acceptable. Go nuts, babe. I’ve got you.”


	6. you’re here where you should be.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by; Underneath The Tree by Kelly Clarkson

“Lily, not that I’m not grateful for the gift,” Adrian began, his face paling, “but what the hell am I supposed to do with a parakeet?”

“RuPaul II here is a parrot, Adrian,” Lily scolded. “And I figured he’d help you get laid.”

Serafine snorted. “Exactly how is a parrot supposed to help his non-existent sex life?”

“Nothing says ‘I ain’t no fuckboy’ like a nearly three hundred year old dude living alone with a parrot named after a drag queen,” Lily said completely seriously.

“Fuck!,” the parrot squawked. “Pass the Cheetos!”

Adrian’s brow furrowed as he regarded his new pet perched on his shoulder. “I— I don’t have Cheetos.”

“Cheetos!,” the parrot repeated. “Fucking Cheetos!”

“Does anyone know how to make it stop swearing?,” Adrian cringed. “Why the hell is it swearing?”

“Homeboy loves himself some damn Cheetos,” Lily smirked proudly. “He’s a man of refined tastes.”

Kamilah snorted and glanced at her highly amused wife. “I would’ve stabbed her if she’d dared give me a bloody bird that she’d taught to mimic her patterns of speech.”

“I talked her out of it,” Anastasia whispered. “She was going to get you two parrots.”

“Where does one even buy a parrot?,” she whispered. “And how did she get it here without anyone noticing?”

Anastasia shrugged. “She knows a guy.”

Lily shot them all with finger guns. “He will stop y’all getting all messy and depressy when I’m not around— RuPaul II is the official team mascot now.”

Everybody started laughing at that and Kamilah resisted the urge to point out that Lily was, irritatingly enough, always around. 

She was still much too buoyant with the triumph of how well her gifts to her wife had landed — especially her ancestor Zinaida Yusupova’s black pearl necklace made up of 42 polished black pears that had once belonged to Catherine the Great and had been lost in her family some time after 1918 when they had fled Russia. And especially the boxes upon boxes of infinity roses that would remain fresh for months — there was something wonderfully and undeniably romantic about roses given at the Dark Solstice.

Kamilah had certainly bestowed pearls upon her wife before, she'd indulgently paid lengthy bills for all manner of folderol presented to her by modistes and run up by the way she loved ensuring she had many one of a kind pieces for her wardrobe, she'd showered her with jewels, but never, never had she enjoyed giving a gift as much as she'd had this morning when she’d presented her with many priceless family heirlooms that had been lost during the Russian Revolution and had been rediscovered once again at auction houses on practically every continent. She’d enjoyed the giving as much as Anastasia clearly had enjoyed the getting, judging from the colours she'd turned and that had glowed in her eyes. A woman could grow almost too accustomed to seeking that response to a gift, the way one grew to love opium — not that she was overly familiar with that particular vice — or drink. She could spend sleepless nights imagining a thousand ways how to go about getting it again.

“You look awfully happy,” Serafine smiled as she sat down beside her on the couch next to the ten foot tall decorated tree in one of the many communal living rooms, where their group had opened their presents. She was still in her pyjamas with a piping hot mug of Whittard’s cinnamon hot chocolate in her hand.

Delicate, almost hauntingly joyous music floated out of the entire castle, echoing from every room where different little celebrations were happening amongst close groups of friends. Kamilah heard it from her seat by the fireplace. The lilting strains reached her, then wrapped about her, about her mind, sinking into her senses. They were a siren's song to the Dark Solstice.

Pausing before acknowledging Serafine, she listened to the moody air. It drew her, she could feel the tug as if it was a physical thing. The music spoke of festivity, of restless happiness, of underlying love. 

Even by her standards it was sublime.

“I am happy,” Kamilah replied, her eyes never leaving Anastasia. Her wife was sat cross legged on the floor with Vladimir and Lula, happily playing an odd looking game by the name of Jenga with them at their insistence. Every so often she’d switch between speaking English and Russian and both children were laughing so hard they were practically rolling around on the floor. It reminded her a lot of how she and Lysimachus had been once. “Very happy, indeed.”

“She’s good with them, isn’t she?” Serafine took a long sip out of her mug of hot chocolate. “She does not talk down to them or make it seem like their interactions with her are a burden. Its a rarer gift than one might think.”

“Indeed.” Kamilah took a small sip out of the mug of Whittard’s chai tea she was drinking, her brow furrowing slightly. “She enjoys mentoring the children a great deal. In another life she would’ve made an incredible mother, I believe.”

Serafine’s brows shot up at her remark. “If anyone could figure out how to make fertility treatments work for vampires it’s Anastasia and Adrian. Their minds together can think up technologies the rest of us can scarcely comprehend— if... if that was something you both wanted, that is.”

“To be born a vampire,” she mused, taking another sip of her tea. “Not that I’m admitting I have been... pondering the thought as of late... but how would that work, do you think? At what age would the infant cease to age? How would a theoretical pregnancy even work, given that our bodies are frozen in time and cannot gain weight as a mortals could? Would it even be a moral thing to bring an innocent soul into this world, never knowing anything but a life of the damned?”

“The damned?,” Serafine echoed. “We’re far from damned, mon amie. Look around... I’d say we’re luckier than most.”

“I know that. I know,” she said quickly. “You’ll have to forgive me for thinking out loud. Married life has changed me so much that I am now considering things that I never imagined that I would. I was merely wondering if a child who is born, never knowing what it is to be human, never feeling the sun on their skin, would be chained to the darkness within themselves as surely as if chained to the walls of a prison cell.”

“There is nothing to forgive. It is one of the great joys of my life to finally see you so happy after all these centuries of suffering, Kamilah.” Serafine gave her hand a tight squeeze. “But if I’ve learned anything in my life, it is as long as you fight the darkness, you stand in the light. The circumstances of ones birth has very little to do with it— How does Anastasia feel about this?”

She took another sip of her tea and mulled over her answer. “Well many of her mortal school friends have had children recently. You know her, she never complains and she loves her life so much. Her happiness is a contagious thing... but every time there is another pregnancy announcement I see it in her eyes.”

“See what?”

“Grief.” She sighed. “There is nothing in this world that I cannot give her. There is nowhere I cannot take her. Absolutely no mountain I cannot move for her. Yet the one thing I know she wants... it is the one thing that will likely always remain beyond my reach.” 

Serafine sighed and nodded. “It is a dream that many of us had to abandon when we Turned, unfortunately. Had someone to find a way— well... I’m certain there would be many of us who would leap at the chance to experience that. I know I would.”

“Everything's science fiction until someone makes it science fact,” she muttered, smiling as Vladimir sat himself on Anastasia’s lap and began showing her how to play the new handheld video game he’d received as one of his gifts. “Perhaps, given that Annie has mentioned possibly funding some research at Raines Corp, it may one day be possible for our kind to have biological families. We have nothing but time... which I suppose is an advantage.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, both of them watching the interaction between Vladimir and Anastasia unfolding before them. They were speaking much too quickly in Russian for Kamilah to follow, but she knew the conversation was a happy one if their smiles were anything to go by. She even found herself chuckling as her eyes then drifted across the room to where Lula was sat beside Adrian, trying fruitlessly to help him teach his new pet some better manners.

There were thoughts that appeared in her head, but she hardly knew what they meant. She’d been alive for more than two thousand years with no desire to have a family and now... now it was something that, were it even feasible, she knew would likely bring her a great deal of fulfilment. To do something like that with the woman she loved, to have that which she had not truly had since her own parents had died... well it would be rather lovely.

This had all come about after finding the woman who got her thinking and excited about life again. She’d been the one who’d changed her mind about everything. And the fact that she’d just been given an album full of her own childhood memories or that it was the Dark Solstice certainly didn’t help things... she always grew horrendously introspective at this time of year.

“Stop torturing yourself,” Anastasia laughed lightly as she sat herself down on her lap and pressed a kiss to her brow.

She chuckled and pouted her lips. “And what makes you think I was torturing myself?”

“Your eyes are very expressive. I know what it looks like when you’re thinking yourself in circles.” She smiled softly. “What’s up?”

“I was just watching you with Vladimir and Lula.”

Anastasia nodded and rested her cheek against hers. She cupped the back of her head and simply held her there for a long moment, needing no further explanation than that. 

“My heart only ever has one thought, one want. One need. Despite all, in spite of all,” she whispered at her ear. Then she drew back and her lips brushed hers in an inexpressibly tender caress. “All my heart has ever wanted is you. I’m already very happy and fulfilled, and anything else beyond this is would be a bonus and not a necessity.”

Kamilah sighed happily and tightened her arms around her. For thousands of years she had been renowned within vampire society as being cool under fire — around her wife, however, she was never really very cool at all. She was heated, she seethed, she burnt with desire. If she was in the same room as her, all she could think about was heat, her heat, and how she’d feel around her.

Serafine felt the heat rise, a real force between them, and laughed softly as she excused herself to go help Adrian with his parrot.

"I'd gained the reputation of being the soul of discretion, now look at me.” Her lips twisted wryly. “I’ve been seduced."

“So much for discretion."

She drew a deep breath; her chest brushed her breasts. When she spoke again her words were low and gravelly, and they rolled through Anastasia. “Discretion is overrated, anyway.”

The Bloodkeeper closed her eyes and drew in a shallow breath. “Is that so?,” Anastasia murmured. Her words feathered her cheek, then her lips touched hers.

“Indeed. The way we are now, it’s me giving myself to you — so that everyone knows I'm in your keeping.”

Anastasia’s lips touched the corners of her mouth and the bow of her lips; but Kamilah didn't wait for more. She kissed her. Letting go of the thoughts she had indeed been tormenting herself with, she slid her hands up, framing her face, so she could let her know, let her feel, her response to what she’d said to comfort her.

Anastasia felt it, sensed it, and reacted; her arms locked tight about her. She couldn't breathe, but she didn't care. All she cared about was the emotion that held them, that flowed so effortlessly between them.

Silver and gold, it wound about them, investing each touch with its magic. Silver and gold, it shimmered about them, and quivered in their fractured breaths. It was immediate compulsion and future promise, heavenly delight and earthly pleasure. It was here and now, and forever. She knew beyond words, beyond thought, beyond understanding that this wonder, this joy, this aching togetherness would never end.

“Come with me?,” she murmured. “There’s one more thing I’d like to give you.”

“One more thing?,” smirked Anastasia.

Kamilah winked at her as she led her by the hand back to their bedroom, locking the door behind her to avoid any unwanted interruptions with purple hair and glasses.

“Ooh, a locked door,” Anastasia giggled. “Whatever could you have in mind, I wonder?”

“You’re far too overdressed,” she smirked. 

“Ah, yes. This slip is far too modest.” Without another word, Anastasia went about taking it and her satin robe off, keeping her gaze locked on hers the entire time. “And that means yours is, too, by the way.”

She huffed in amusement and bit down on her bottom lip, drinking in the familiar sight of her naked body. “Well if my lady wishes that I strip, how could I possibly deny her?” A sly smirk spread across her face as she removed her nightgown, revelling in Anastasia’s very visible reaction. “Better?”

“Much.”

Without another word, she closed the distance between them and took her lips on hers. Their every kiss was a revelation, and Kamilah had never imagined a simple kiss could be so bold, so heavily invested with meaning... even after all this time. Her lips were soft and warm; they moved over Anastasia’s, parting them further, confidently guiding her, ruthlessly teaching her all she was so eager to learn.

Her tongue invaded her mouth with the arrogance of a medieval conquerer claiming victory's spoils. Unhurriedly, she visited every corner of her domain, claiming her every inch, branding it as her’s — and knowing it was. After a lengthy, devastatingly thorough inspection, she settled to sample her in a different way. The slow, languid thrusting seduced her willing senses.

She'd yielded, yet her passive surrender satisfied neither of them. Anastasia found herself drawn into the game — the slide of lips against lips, the sensual glide of hot tongue against tongue. She was more than willing. The promise in the heat rising, steadily building between them, and even more the tension — excitement and something more — that surged like a slow tide behind the warm glow, drew her on. The kiss stretched and time slowed — the drugging effect of shared breaths sent her wits to a slow spin which broke immediately when Kamilah dropped to her knees before her.

“Kami,” Anastasia murmured, her breathing quickening.

“Look at me,” she murmured between the kisses she was littering on her lower belly and the fronts of her thighs. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Anastasia dragged in a shuddering breath and forced her lids up. She looked down, at Kamilah on her knees, leaning into her, her glorious hair rippling over her shoulders, gilded in the firelight, shifting as her head moved and she pleasured her. The Bloodkeeper saw her fingers locked on her head, felt hers slide further into her as her tongue circled her clit.

Kamilah hummed against her and smiled when she felt it was no longer within Anastasia’s control. Her wife’s hips drummed, and her tempo grew ever swifter. She arched to meet her, drawing hot breaths in. She clutched her thighs, her nails dragging over her white skin, and whimpered her name, for as their bodies clashed hard her release came fast and she gasped and whined like a feral thing. A smile spread across her face as she slowly brought her back down, watching in awe as the rush of pleasure crashed through her.

“That was miraculous,” she concluded.

“Kami,” Anastasia panted, practically collapsing in her arms as she carried her over to the bed. “Wow.”

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” she smirked as she lay her down gently and climbed onto the mattress to hover over her. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

Anastasia bit down on her bottom lip as Kamilah pressed her thighs far, far apart. She was wide open to her now as she crawled back down her body. A sharp gasp escaped from the back of the Bloodkeeper’s throat as her muscular, brilliant tongue delved deeper, found an indescribable rhythm and stroked her, her entire body shivering until she found precisely the rhythm she needed. One of her fists knotted in the bedsheets and the other slipped into her hair, and she arched into her, rippling with the untenable pleasure. She hissed her breath through her teeth. She was hot or she was cold or there was some other word that meant both; all she knew was that her skin stung as if every cell of it was alive and singing, and that pleasure was a river roaring through her, threatening the very seams of her being. Building, building.

And bliss crashed over her with a white burst behind her eyes.

The most self satisfied smirk twitched at the corners of her lips as she crawled back up her body, her opened legs wide enough to accommodate her, as she guided her fingers into her. 

“Oh my god, Kam— Mm—“

Her breath caught in the back of her throat as with languid, graceful ease and a little psychic help, Anastasia rolled the two of them so that they faced each other. And side by side, legs entangled, her hand drifted down and moved inside her, mirroring her movements.

“Using psychic abilities is cheating,” she said breathily against her lips whilst gently stroking her flame hair with her free hand.

Anastasia nipped at her bottom lip and whispered, “I know.”

Their hands rocked almost languorously; they rippled together like a flame. Their eyes locked. Their mouths met and parted, caressed and left each other in distraction, as pleasure banked in each.

"I want to watch you come," she whispered against her mouth. "I want you to watch me come."

It was so coarse and shockingly intimate, and it was frantically erotic.

Through the tempest of their passions, through the wonderful ride, Kamilah was conscious only of sensation. It buffeted her, overwhelmed her mind, etched itself on her awareness. So that despite the heat and the delirious pleasure of Anastasia’s body moving against hers, despite the powerful thrusts that physically rocked her, despite the impossible clamoring urgency that had her tilting her hips to take her yet more deeply, that had her scoring her back urging her desperately to ride her yet more forcefully, the one element that shone through it all was Anastasia’s hunger for her. It was every bit as deep and powerful and demanding as her hunger for her.

“You’re so close,” Anastasia said, her voice wavering. “Come for me.”

Kamilah let out a sharp moan in the final mind-shattering moment when she clung by her fingernails over the sensual void, the veils ripped apart and she saw that hungry power clearly— saw, felt, with her own senses knew what it was. Unquestionably, beyond doubt.

Then Anastasia thrust one last time and with a cry of her name she shattered; with a sob she lost her grip on reality and fell. Weightless for that moment, that briefest of journeys, falling from heavenly pleasure into satiation's soothing sea.

They both felt exposed, raw, and kept their eyes open; she was both lost and found in the soft, burning depths of her blue eyes. But their mingled breath became a chorus of gasps and moans as release came upon them. 

Again. 

And again. 

And again.

Kamilah’s dark eyes became brilliant and intent and inwardly focused; she was lost to her. She was keening from the urgent press of her pleasure, which came from everywhere in her body, roared toward escape like a molten river. And she knew Anastasia’s was upon her, too. She was arching against her, shattering into bliss and she drew herself from her body with a gasp.

The ancient vampire collapsed half on top of her, too wrung out to move, her lungs working like bellows, her heart thundering, pounding. Gradually, it slowed. Sensation, muted awareness returned, enough to register the gentle stroking of her hair and her face, the soothing touch calming, wonderfully claiming.

Before she could move, Anastasia did; pressing her brow to hers, pushing back the damp hair from the side of her face, she touched her lips to her jaw, then, her lips curving sleepily, touched those kiss-swollen lips to the corner of hers.

“Thank you." The words were a sigh from Anastasia’s lips, the softest of feminine exhalations. "That was...”

“Wow,” they agreed in unison.

They laughed lightly and Kamilah brushed the pad of her thumb across her lips, studying the madonnalike expression that had claimed her face, the bliss that infused her delicate features.

Drawing her to closer to her, she pulled the covers over them, then settled her against them, cradled within her arms, Anastasia’s head was pillowed on her chest. The Bloodkeeper made a soft humming sound, then her limbs eased against her.

She dipped her head and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Sleep, my love. We have a few hours before the banquet begins and the bonfire is lit at dawn.”

She felt her lips curve against her neck, but she didn't reply.

Instead she slid her hand up, curling her fingers against the side of her throat to caress her pulse, and relaxed into her arms.

Inexplicably satisfied now as well as sated, Kamilah closed her eyes too. And found slumber waiting, dreamless and deep... safe and loved in her wife’s arms.


	7. and from your lips she drew the hallelujah.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by; Hallelujah (piano version) by David Schultz.

The days between the Dark Solstice and the beginning of the new year were always a strange few. Time seemed to move differently, moments became syrupy, and practically every vampire existed in a state of near permanent drunkenness. Most nights there were bonfires on the castle grounds, fireworks displays, balls and raves, banquets and feasts the likes of which would put a mortal into a food coma. All in the lead up to the grand New Years carnival — which, admittedly, almost always took days for the resulting hangovers to clear afterwards.

It was bloody brilliant as far as Kamilah was concerned.

The most wonderful time of the year, as it were.

“My love, Mathew sent me a picture of himself and Tyler at The Louvre. It seems Tyler has decided to propose—“ She cut herself off as she waltzed into the bathroom joined to their bedroom, stopping short in the bathroom door at the sight of her wife laying in a bubble bath surrounded by festive scented candles. For a moment she just stood there, simply drinking in the sight of her. This woman was the beat of her ancient heart. The fire and flame that warmed her, healed her, burnt her anew. The river that cooled her and carried her. And the love she bore her still drove the air from her lungs in moments like this.

Anastasia smiled at her. “I helped him pick out the ring. Mathew is a Kate Middleton and a Princess Di stan, so I put him in touch with jewellers who could replicate the royal engagement ring almost exactly.”

She snorted. “Is that why you conveniently decided to cut your own salary to raise your employees substantially, by any chance?”

The Bloodkeeper shrugged her shoulders, shifting the wet hair that was clinging to her skin. “I just want our boys to be happy... especially since they’ve been asking about Turning.”

“Eternity with Mathew making my life miserable,” she grumbled. “God help me if they decide to do it.”

They shared a laugh and Anastasia caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she carefully rubbed some warm water over her hair to help the deep conditioning treatment soak in — caring for waist length hair was no joke. Her lips were very pink. Plump, with a prominent Cupid's bow on the upper one. Her mouth gleamed softly with moisture against her pale skin.

Her eyes dropped as she considered what she wanted to do with that mouth, remembering exactly what she’d done to her the night before.

She was meticulously working the treatment into her hair now with those slim fingers, massaging her scalp. Her hair was her pride and joy. In all of years of life, Kamilah had never met another who was so particular about their hair — except, perhaps, the infamous Empress Sisi of Austria. Each and every day it was brushed and styled to perfection, and she grow incredibly distressed if what she deemed to be ‘too many’ hairs came out in that process. She only used certain products in it. The ends were thoroughly tended to avoid them splitting. And god help anyone but her who dared try to touch it... it was the surest way to get oneself psychically thrown head first into the nearest available wall.

“Are you just going to stand there staring or are you planning on joining me, babe?”

The words, uttered softly, reached her as she leaned against the polished ancient mahogany wood decorated with gold leafing on the doorframe; she felt a tingle slither down her spine. And felt the touch of her glacial gaze on her cheeks, on the sensitive skin of her throat. She simply smirked, resisting the urge to wriggle.

She huffed in amusement and sat her phone down on the marble counter. “I warn you, all this quality time will lead to nothing but me becoming rather spoiled.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re not already completely spoiled,” Anastasia teased. “You are a former Egyptian princess who had a whole army of servants at one time, after all.”

“I can’t even deny that I was a spoiled little thing.”

“Of course you can’t, your highness.”

She playfully splashed some of the warm bath water onto her face in response to that as she climbed into the claw foot tub and lay herself down between her legs, her back to Anastasia’s front, her head rested just below her chin. It was indeed very true, though, so she couldn’t refute it with anything at all. 

“Can I do your hair with the same deep conditioning treatment I’m using?,” The Bloodkeeper murmured. “It’s life changing.”

She nodded. “By all means, change my life.”

Anastasia giggled softly as her hands slipped into Kamilah’s silky brown hair, drawing warm water through its shimmering length. A low sigh escaped from the back of her throat and she had to clench her jaw to keep from moaning right away. It was a big display of trust that she’d allow her to do this. Being with her this way made a shock go through her, low in her belly. It was in the little idyllic moments like this that it often struck her that she’d, quite literally, never been treated like this before in her whole life — so gently it was almost like she was something innocent and precious. 

This was the way she’d always wished to be treated, though she’d never have admitted it to anyone for most of her life. Not even to herself.

“How was your walk with Adrian?,” Anastasia asked quietly. 

“He was just thankful to be free of that bloody bird for an hour. He left it in Nikhil’s charge and we heard him becoming unduly flustered when it began insulting his tie,” she said breathily. “It spent the majority of the day swearing and demanding Cheetos. He didn’t sleep a wink.”

“Poor Nikhil... he loves that tie.” Anastasia giggled. “We all know that in a few days Adrian will be carrying the thing around on his shoulder like a pirate 24/7. So I don’t even know why he’s complaining.”

“Indeed... and the very thought makes me want to stab myself in the eyes so I do not have to see it.” She sighed. “The fool will inspire a million of those odd internet images Lily posts on her social media pages.”

“Memes.”

“I still hate that word,” she smirked. “I refuse to say it.”

Anastasia kissed her temple and Kamilah hummed softly in response. This had to be some sort of witchcraft. It had to be. There was absolutely no way having her hair cared for like this could possibly have felt so wonderful. As Anastasia scrubbed gently backwards through the length of her hair, stroking, pressing, massaging, she smiled as she found her dark eyes closing like a lazy cat's. 

“Whilst you were gone I endured an hour of Serafine and Lily complaining about their sex lives,” Anastasia told her. “It completely turned me off of my breakfast.”

“This castle is filled with potential sexual conquests and they cannot find one decent way to spend a night?”

“They slept with each other again last night because they were bored and tired of having bad hookups.”

She snorted. “And?”

“Well they always have fun and they love each other platonically, obviously. But there’s a big difference between casual sex and what they’re both looking for, you know?” Anastasia sighed. “I feel bad for them. Lily literally reached the end of PornHub... I didn’t even know that could happen but apparently it can.”

“You and I are surrounded by idiots having frighteningly bad sex, I hope you know. I think that’s precisely why they’re so insufferable... it’s pure sexual frustration.”

“Mhm,” Anastasia hummed, as Kamilah turned to kiss her hand. “Thank god we don’t have that problem.”

“Indeed.” She bit down on her bottom lip, smiling softly to herself as she massaged at her temples. Her eyes practically rolled back in her skull at the feel of it. “We may have to take matters into our own hands, since they’re clearly incapable of picking out sane individuals to take to their beds. If they’re not dating mortals who claim to be sexually attracted to plants, they’re dating werewolf cult leaders who wish to live in a van and blog about said van for a living, or a mortal ‘psychic’ who travels everywhere with a crystal ball and is really just hallucinating on magic mushrooms most of the time rather than having any genuine gifts. It’s getting beyond ridiculous.”

“I don’t even know where they find these people.”

“I’m not even sure I wish to know.”

They shared a laugh and a happy sigh escaped from the back of her throat. Serafine and Lily’s dating woes only made her even more thankful she’d found her other half, and that she happened to be a completely sane individual. Dating in the modern world seemed a terrifying thing, which made her glad she and Anastasia had first crossed paths the way they had. Fate was funny like that, and through her love she had come to understand it’s tricks, and how they could turn you into someone else completely, how they could maybe even turn you into the person you were meant to be. Because that’s what happened to fury when tenderness was applied. It dissolved. 

Lily and Serafine both sought love, but the problem was that they expected it to be a simple thing, and never seemed to understand what they meant when they were told not to expect it to be easy. If one thing was certain to Kamilah, it was that it would be neither of those things. If a person wanted love, then by all means they could seek it out — search for it high and low... but when it came down to it, love was a matter for each individual heart. No one could tell you, no one could warn you, no one could prepare you for what it would actually be like when you found it. When it came, if it came, a person would know it — and then they’d have to decide just how much they actually wanted it, how much they were willing to give and take to let it live and thrive.

Love was a thing that simply was — it asked no permission. Acceptance was all love asked, the only demand it made, but it was an absolute one that their dear Lily and Serafine struggled with. A person could either admit it in their heart or refuse it, but there was no other option — just because fate had shown a person the water, didn't mean they had to drink.

“You're rather good at this, aren't you?,” she teased.

Anastasia’s gentle grin converted to a rakish smile. "I'm rather good at lots of things."

Her voice lowered to a rumbling purr. She leaned closer to her ear. “Such as?"

Anastasia tried, very hard, to ignore the vice slowly closing about her chest. She kept her eyes on hers, drawing ever nearer, determined that she wouldn't — absolutely would not for the time being — allow her gaze to drop to Kamilah’s lips. As her heartbeat deepened, she raised one brow challengingly. 

By the time the Bloodkeeper reached a conclusion, she was utterly breathless — and utterly enthralled by the heady feelings slowly spiraling through her. Kamilah’s confident possession of her lips, her mouth, left her giddy — pleasurably so. Her warm lips moved on hers, and she softened, not just her lips, but every muscle, every limb. Slow heat washed through her, a tide of simple delight that seemed to have no greater meaning, no deeper import. 

It was all pleasure, simple pleasure.

With a soft sigh, Anastasia lifted her arms and draped them over Kamilah’s shoulders. In her embrace, the ancient vampire shifted closer — quietly thrilled at the slow surge of her wife’s tongue against hers. Boldly, she returned the caress, all the muscles in her body tensed. Emboldened, Kamilah let her lips firm against hers, and reveled in her immediate response. Hard transmuted to harder; lips, muscles, all became more definite, more sharply defined.

And behind it all came heat — a heat they both shared. It rose like a fever, turning the swirling pleasure hot. Beyond the caress of their lips, they hadn't touched each other, yet every nerve in Kamilah’s body was heating, simmering with sensation. The warm tide spread, swelled; the temperature increased.

And she was flushed, restless — wanting.

“Now you’re really spoiling me,” she rasped breathlessly as Anastasia began massaging a lavender body wash over her chest, leaving the treatment in her hair to set.

“You deserve it.”

Kamilah’s breath caught. Her lids fell. Wordlessly, she turned her face, offering her lips.

Anastasia took them, took her. As their lips fused, she felt her hands slide lower, deliberately tracing the ripe hemispheres of her breasts. She filled her hands, then kneaded as she rubbed in the body wash. The heat spread, prickling over her skin, leaving it fevered. Cupping her soft flesh, Anastasia moulded her to her, easing her deeper into a state of bliss.

She would have gasped, but she couldn't. The evocative caress, her wife’s unhurried possession of her mouth and exploration of her body, sent heat rolling through her. It pooled, hot and heavy, in her loins and in her limbs. As the kiss drew her in, drew her deeper, a heady languor spread, weighting her limbs, slowing her senses.

But not muting them.

She was achingly aware. Aware of everything that surrounded her, of the velvety flex of a feminine body about her. Of Anastasia’s tightly furled nipples pressed hard to the muscular wall of her back; of the softness of her thighs held intimately on either side of her body. Of the relentless, driving passion that burnt between them.

“Annie,” she murmured, her thighs rubbing together seemingly of their own accord.

“Mhm?,” Anastasia hummed, her voice fluttering against her neck as hands continued massaging her body.

With a soft, evocative sigh she eased, her body practically melting against hers, accepting. Instinctively she took her left hand and guided it to where she desired her. “I told you I’m becoming far too spoiled for my own good.”

Anastasia laughed softly, her palm stroking over her. Her fingers spreading her. Exploring her. “Then let me spoil you some more.”

Gritting her teeth against the inevitable effect of that evocative caress, Anastasia’s hand drew back just a little, then forged in again, filling her completely. Her breath left her and she clutched at her, both with her hands and her body. She eased back again, filled her anew; her breasts swelled as she breathed in, then she followed her rhythm.

Anastasia set the pace, slow, steady, only gradually increasing as she sensed her response, as desire rose, fresh and urgent, and the fires of passion reclaimed them, and the conflagration built.

And it was more with her, so much more, than the act had ever been with anyone else. Reaching deeper, further, into some part of her she hadn't even known could be touched before, the intimate surrender and the possession sank straight into the marrow of her ancient bones. Her surrender to her, and Anastasia’s to her; her possession of her, and Anastasia’s of her. This wasn't any simple joining, the usual trading of pleasure that passed between two individuals, but one intricate and involved, layered with meaning, coiled and twined with feelings and emotions she'd never before encountered, not in this arena.

“Are you using your abilities on me?,” she breathed.

“Mhm,” Anastasia hummed, her free hand caressing her face. “I’m feeling exactly what you’re feeling— which I’m just realising might be the most extra way anyone has ever masturbated.”

She snorted. “You strange, wonderful girl.”

For long moments, her head tilted back against her, slowly riding her, she let sensation rule, let her senses expand and fill her mind. All but overwhelmed by sensual delight, by an awareness of her body and its potential for pleasure more extensive and more compelling than ever before, she slowed.

Slow, deep, but desperate for fulfillment, willing to surrender all just to reach that peak. And then they were there, panting, wanting, reaching, stretching for the glory.

It broke upon them, swept them up, shattered them, then on a gust of deep, mindless pleasure, surged through them and left them wrecked. Left bath water sloshing over the sides of the bathtub.

Wrecked with pleasure. Smiling sillily, dizzy with delight, softly laughing, they slumped in each other's arms, and let the moment cradle them.

Kamilah’s lips touched hers again, then settled, warm and soft against hers. The rest of her was warm, too, an oasis of heat in the chilly late December night as snow fell in sheets outside the windows. She gave in to the urge to snuggle closer, bringing both of Anastasia’s arms around her and holding them there, her face pressed into the safety of her neck.

Anastasia drew her more firmly against her, shifting and creating threads of psychic energy so she was trapped — very comfortably — in an embrace in which she felt her touch everywhere. Protected from the coldness of night. Protected from the world.

They were certainly in no danger of taking a chill.

She'd never imagined such sensations existed before this; she could barely believe they were real. Yet the gentle chaste caresses continued, thrilling her, heating her — she had to wonder what else of life she didn't yet know.

What else, after more than two thousand years of wandering this world, she had yet to experience.

With every ounce of expertise at her command, Anastasia deliberately lulled her into a deeper state of relaxation. Her total lack of resistance would have made her wonder, if she hadn't seen this curiosity, the calm calculated intention, and unshakable trust shining in her eyes a million times before. She was willing, even eager — the knowledge stirred the Bloodkeeper’s passions powerfully. She held them in check, aware that she was no wanton, that she'd never been down this road before with anybody else — and that, despite her guileless confidence, her openness — her implicit trust was a thing beholden only to her.

Kamilah was by no means naive or innocent — but after all that she had suffered, she needed to be loved tenderly, coaxed to passion gently, savoured slowly. Just as Anastasia was savouring her now, the softness of her mouth hers to enjoy, her breasts firm under her wandering hands. Her openness to her was refreshing — heady, addictive, entrancing.

“You’re adorable, Kami.”

She huffed, a smile twitching at the corners of her lips. That compliment always seemed to hit differently when it came from her. “Am I?”

“Extremely.” Anastasia kissed the bridge of her nose and teasingly pinched at her cheek. “Sit a little forward for me now.” Her mouth was right at her ear as she commanded her. "Close your eyes and tilt your head back."

“That’s not suggestive at all.”

She snorted and playfully plopped a dollop of floral scented bubbles onto the end of her nose. “Dork.”

The temperate water from the ornate golden shower head flowed over her scalp, warm and soothing, but her glowing tanned skin was prickled with goosebumps nonetheless. 

Then she turned around and returned the favour, making sure every single strand of her gorgeous red hair was clean and perfectly conditioned, revelling in the closeness between them.

Being like this with her, it was almost like all she knew was this peace, this calm, this profound pleasure that welled and washed through her. Content, she flowed with the tide, letting her senses stretch. The whirling that had disoriented her for more than two thousand years had slowed; her mind had steadied.

She was free.


	8. and there's a hand, my trusty fiere.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by; Auld Lang Syne (piano version) by Miss Hilda.
> 
> PROMPT (I altered it slightly to fit this story): a one shot where it’s game night at mc and kamilah’s penthouse and lily,serafine,adrian,kamilah and mc are playing monopoly and mc is winning and kamilah is like super competitive and thinks mc is cheating

“I always say that love is like the meat in a pie," Lily said, her words slurred through the mouthful the mini pork pie she had shovelled into her mouth as she took her turn in the game of Monopoly they had been embroiled in for the past forty-five minutes. "The crust is what people see — the practical and kinky shit that hold a couple together. But love is the important part — without it you've got a fucking meatless pie, and what the hells the point of that? Ain’t nobody looking for a damn meatless pie.”

"Why, Lily," Kamilah sighed, taking a small sip of her wine, "that was almost profound."

"Lil is always profound when it comes to pie," Anastasia remarked. 

“Damn right I am,” Lily nodded. “Meat pies. Fruit pies. Who doesn’t love a good ass pie?”

Adrian’s face turned pensive as he fed the brightly coloured bird perched on his shoulder a salted pretzel from the wide array of snacks spread out on the table. "I think love is like the ocean,” he said. “The surface may be stormy or ruffled by wind, rain may fall on it or lightning strike it, but if you sink down where the water is deep and steady, no matter what happens on the surface, you can always have a marvelous swim.”

“Adrian, that was beautiful,” Serafine murmured.

“God damn bro,” Lily deadpanned. “Imma need you to write that one down for me the next time I got a date or something. Girls will love that shit.”

“How exactly did me informing you all that we will be gone for a month celebrating our anniversary travelling in Sweden and Denmark this year evolve into this?,” she sighed, glancing at the game board. “And how am I losing this bloody infuriating mortal game? I work in finance! Are you all cheating or just trying to make me look like an idiot?”

“Oh, we’re definitely not cheating,” Serafine laughed. “It is every man for himself in Monopoly.”

“You two cheated at pool,” she deadpanned, her dark eyes flickering between Serafine and her wife. It was far from unheard of for them to team up using their psychic abilities on game nights. “And Twister.”

“How does one cheat at Twister, mon amie?”

“Using your abilities to support you whilst bending into those positions is classified as cheating of the highest degree.” She pouted. “I know for a fact that Annie is that flexible. You, however, are not.”

“I could’ve been doing daily stretches every morning in the centuries that have passed since you last tried to bend me into certain positions.” Serafine smirked at her. “You don’t know.”

“I do know.” She rolled her eyes. “These days you will not even open a bottle of wine for fear of chipping your nail polish and you honestly expect me to believe you’ve been diligently stretching for the past five hundred years?”

“Oui,” nodded Serafine.

“Kamilah, are you pouting?” 

She glanced over to see her brother smiling, but it was a commiserating sort of smile as he was also losing. “Yes. Indeed. Care to join me?”

He shrugged and pouted his lips dramatically, which only made everybody laugh.

“You’re both trying to make me look like an idiot by losing,” she smirked. “I will not stand for this attempted slander a moment longer.”

“If you look like an idiot it has nothing to do with us,” quipped Anastasia.

“Watch it, little minx," Kamilah warned with a mischievous lift of her brow, casting Anastasia a look that only she could decipher. "If you intend to taunt me for every foolish mistake I've made since we began this game, you'll force me to play another.”

Anastasia huffed in amusement. “Another round of Monopoly?”

“Oh, no, darling. You’ll force me to lock you up in my dark, forbidding room while I have my wicked way with you." She feigned a sigh. “I may even be forced to twist you up into many an uncomfortable position or two.”

“That sounds perfectly awful," Anastasia replied, feigning as much horror as she could whilst gazing at the woman she loved. The dreamy look on her face made Kamilah’s heart catch in her throat. What she wouldn’t give to keep the look there forever. “How soon can we start?”

“Fucking start now for the benefit of us single folks,” Lily groaned. “This is way more exciting than anything on PornHub.”

“Must you both say things like that in public, for God's sake?,” Adrian laughed, taking his turn. “Sex games. PornHub. Are we really that family who cannot even enjoy a simple game night without this filth?”

Anastasia giggled and turned her head to smile at her, and in that moment she looked rather lovely. With her face lit by affection and happiness, she was radiant. Her face was remarkable and there was a brightness and an animation to her tonight, some spark that made her utterly arresting. Especially when she declared, “We’ve been having so much sex lately that it’s kinda impossible not to talk about it.”

Kamilah couldn’t help but smile at that. Every time she was near to her she burnt to carry her off to some secluded spot and do any number of wicked things with her. She kissed her softly on the lips, unable to resist the lush, succulent mouth so close to hers.

“Indeed,” she sighed happily. “It has been rather wonderful.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?,” Lily groaned.

“You and Serafine have been sleeping together all week,” she pointed out. “You cannot possibly still be sexually frustrated.”

“That’s sex sex. You two are having kinky ass love sex,” Lily clarified. “You’re legit the two freakiest people in the world and you love the shit outta each other. The sex y’all are having is not the same as the sex we’re having.”

“There is a big difference,” agreed Serafine.

Adrian raised his brows. “Am I the only one not currently sharing my bed with someone?”

“Apparently,” laughed Anastasia. “We have to find you someone. You’re such a catch... anybody would be lucky to have you.”

Adrian flashed her a little smile tinged with sadness. “You think so?”

“Adrian, are you kidding me?,” Anastasia gushed. “You’re like, the best guy in the world. You’re smart and funny and kind and passionate and you know how to cook— and you’re a hand holder, that’s a lovely quality in a man. You pick up the phone every time I call you. You’re always on time. You’re a great listener, even when you’re not interested in what is being spoken about. That’s perfect boyfriend material that anyone would jump at the chance of having.”

Adrian swallowed thickly, pain subtly glistening in his eyes. “Thank you, Anastasia. I— I appreciate that more than you know.”

Kamilah regarded him for a long moment, knowing that he very rarely indulged in sexual escapades outside of the random orgys Lily liked to host at the Shadow Den. He hadn’t always been that way by any means... but since Anastasia had come into their lives and he had developed certain feelings for her around the exact same time she had, he just didn’t seem to be very interested in romance at all. Were he anybody else she simply wouldn’t stand for them daring to love her wife, for not moving on with their life because their feelings for her were that strong. But Adrian was Adrian and she not only loved him dearly but trusted him completely — and given that sweet Anastasia was literally the only person alive who was somehow completely oblivious to his feelings, she knew that he wouldn’t be the one to burst her bubble by ever confessing just how much he adored her. 

He looked at her apologetically and she simply nodded to placate him. He knew that she was well aware of his feelings. He knew that she was well aware of the sheer intensity of them, too. But one thing he may not have known that she was also aware of, was just how much he wished he did not love Anastasia as he did. Or just how much he had tried to stop loving her... but love simply was not a switch one could flick on and off whenever they pleased. Especially not when the object of their affections somehow only seemed to grow even more maddeningly adorable as the years wore on — that was why Adrian would go to his grave never kissing her or touching her, but would still not have thought it a wasted love.

“You should download Tinder... or Grindr. Whatever floats your boat,” Lily suggested. “I’ll help you filter out the assholes.”

Adrian chuckled. “No thank you. I’m much too busy to be using dating apps— and now I’m a parrot father. My schedule is full.”

They all shared a laugh and the board game continued on, and the pleasant buzz in their bodies from all the wine only intensified. Every so often Kamilah found herself glancing around the massive glass conservatory they were sat in; the dark shapes of huge green leaves reared above the denser dark of heavy pots, all grouped upon a tiled floor covered in multiple ornate looking French rugs. Moonlight streamed through sparkling walls of long windows and frosty panes in the ceiling, silvering paths winding between sends of trees and exotic night blooms. The rich scents of earth and the warm heat of the stone fireplace and the growing things hung on the heavy night air.

For centuries Kamilah hadn’t realised how wonderful having free time like this could be. Having no responsibilities beyond spending time with her loved ones was a wonderful thing that she actually found quite relaxing now that she didn’t have a monster constantly breathing over her shoulder. She could say and do whatever she pleased. She could eat and drink as much or as little as she wanted. She could even take some time to herself to recharge her social battery without it turning into an argument that would almost always end with accusations of treasonous behaviour turned against her.

This was what the Dark Solstice was all about, she realised. Finding the joy in the simplest of things that she mostly took for granted. It was the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a good long talk beside the fire: it was the time for home.

She would much sooner love a night like this by the fire, with something fun to do and not that flickering rectangular son of a bitch that sat screaming in every living room in the country. 

This was living.

“I don’t understand how me losing Monopoly means I have to do... whatever this is,” she muttered as she followed everybody up just one of the rolling hills on the castle grounds. Usually climbing said hill would’ve been no challenge at all. However, in a few feet of snow it was the very last thing she wished to be doing... her winter boots were Gucci, after all.

Although it was only a little past two o'clock in the morning, the never ending stream of parties and celebrations were already well underway. The wintery fog was seemingly made thicker by its proximity to the Hudson, blurred some details of the night with its ragged veils, punctured at various distances by the reddish orange glow of gas lanterns throughout the sprawling grounds and bars of light escaping from decorated trees in illuminated windows of the castle in the distance. 

There were some couples dancing around the bonfires, arm in arm, in an old Dutch dance she vaguely recognised, their cheeks touching, their hands entwined. They had no traditional folk music; but they hummed a song she’d heard many times before. And there was no reason for them to be dancing that Kamilah could see, except that it was an exceptionally beautiful December night.

The ground was thick with snow and glittered under the festive light displays, like a lake reflecting strings of rainbow coloured lights. A bitter wind, heavy with icy particles, stung at her face, its howling forming the high notes of a symphony. The night certainly lacked none of winter's hauntingly beautiful poetry.

“Sledding,” Lily beamed. “And you gotta do it because you’re a sore ass loser and this will cheer you up.”

Her brow furrowed. “I do not understand how sliding down a hill on a piece of plastic will cheer me up.”

She shivered where she stood as a few of the children of Clan Matsuo whizzed down the hill past them on their own brightly coloured plastic boards, some were even sitting in the inflatable rings that they played with in the pool during the summer — with one particularly odd child even straddling an inflatable dolphin, and another two clinging to an inflatable swan. She watched them in abject horror as they flew down the hill, evidently aiming to jump and fly off into the air. Getting the wind knocked out of them as they landed hard then climbed up to do it again — relentless and brave. 

Lysimachus would’ve loved this as a boy, she thought. 

Even as a man he would’ve found the fun in it, she was sure.

The snow at this time of night was one of the most beautiful thing Kamilah had ever seen, especially as many of the bare trees were lit up with twinkling lights. It fell so gracefully and drizzled her skin like a cold whisper. However, this sledding nonsense seemed like much too mortal a pastime for her to indulge in. It was the sort of activity she imagined Mathew would enjoy. Certainly not something she would ever consider enjoyable.

“It’s actually really fun, Kami,” Anastasia laughed, her gloved hand glided down Kamilah’s arm, and folding over her hand. Her fingers laced with hers, their palms kissing.

“If I’m sliding down this hill then you’re coming with me,” she said, albeit a little uneasily. This could not be a safe activity. How many mortals inadvertently lost limbs indulging in this madness each year? Why would anybody do this?

“Duh,” smirked Anastasia as she sat down on the front of the red piece of plastic and grabbed ahold of the string handle. “Take a seat, babe.”

She sighed and sat down behind her. “If you crash this thing I will not be pleased.”

Anastasia giggled. “Don’t worry, I’m a pro at this.”

“I—“ She cut herself off when she felt Lily and Adrian behind her, giving them an almighty shove, and before she could even comprehend what was happening they were barrelling down the hill at breakneck speed.

Her arms tightened around Anastasia’s body and she actually found herself laughing. 

It was all the wine in her system, she concluded. 

Indeed, it had to be the wine.

There was absolutely no way she was actually enjoying something this foolish.

She didn’t miss the unmistakable feel of Anastasia’s abilities making the freezing air around them feel staticky as they sped up. 

And sped up. 

And sped up.

“Annie!,” she laughed hysterically.

“Do you trust me?,” Anastasia giggled.

“You know I—“ The wind was knocked right out of her before she could finish as they were hit with one final burst of speed.

They were plunging through snow drifts, leaping hollows, and swooping down upon the frozen lake where they’d skated earlier that night. They shot across its gleaming icy surface and landed gracefully on the opposite snow bank to the wild cheers of giddy vampires watching from the top of the hill. What joy! What exhilarating madness! For one wild, glad moment it seemed they had snapped the chain that bound them to the earth, defied gravity, and joined hands with the winds they had felt themselves divine.

She exhaled a dramatic breath and rested her forehead against her wife’s shoulder as they both started laughing. The snow flurries continued to fall around them and they swirled around their legs like Lysimachus’ beloved house cat once had. It was magical, this snow globe world.

“Please don’t tell me you did that as a mortal?,” she laughed, pulling Anastasia gracefully to her feet.

“Every winter,” Anastasia beamed. “I dislocated my knee when I teenager and was one crutches for three weeks.”

She snorted. “It is a wonder you survived childhood.”

She still felt the cold, but she no longer minded it as the night dissolved into the sort of fun and childish high-jinx she had gone thousands of years without experiencing. Perhaps it was indeed the mulled wine. Or perhaps it was all down to the fact she was happy all the way down to her bones. The exact reason for her joy didn’t matter, it only mattered that she felt it.

And felt it, she did.

Underneath the bright tingle of the stars, and the classical orchestral music carried from inside the castle on the winter winds, and the silky feeling of silvery moonlight on her skin. She was profoundly happy. 

It was worth being cold for that.

So she smiled and she laughed, and rode down that damn hill at least a hundred times. 

That night they all gave themselves up to the stars the way wild swimmers could surrender themselves to the waves of the ocean entirely, and the stars took them without resistance.

~ fin. 


End file.
